The Willow Tree
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: Spencer and Seaver go missing for almost a year. When the team finds them the crime is bigger than anyone could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

_**Part 1**_

 _This is my Bible. I am what it says I am. I have what it says I have. I can do what it says I can do._

 _\- Joel Osteen_

* * *

 _._

* * *

 **Chapter 01**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Federal Bureau of Investigation  
Quantico, BA**

 **September, 2011**

"Where are they Ian?" Emily Prentiss asked.

Ian Doyle was shackled to the interrogation table. He'd been captured, finally, but they didn't want him. They wanted something else. Now he lolled back in his chair and looked at the agents across the table. "Where are who?"

"This is your only chance for any good will." Hotch said. "Where are Agents Reid and Seaver?"

"Oh, those two," Ian studied them a moment and then shrugged. "Guess I'm not getting any good will then, for I have no idea."

"Bullshit Ian!" Emily looked ready to lunge over the table and throttle him. "Your men were following all of us! They had to have seen what happened!"

Ian chuckled. "They saw your people go into that church up there in Theresa. Didn't even look like a proper church, looked like a warehouse. There was no cover so my men decided to tuck back around to the main road, hid behind a hedgerow out there. They never saw your agent's vehicle move."

"Did anyone leave?" Hotch asked.

"A lorry. One of those big ones, haul cargo. It was moving by the time they parked."

"A semi?" Emily asked.

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you got the plate."

Ian smiled slowly. "How much goodwill will that give me?"

* * *

They dealt with Ian, with Chloe Donaghy, with all the crap that went with it. In the end Declan was safe. But they were no closer to finding Spencer and Ashley. "Nothing! Damnit!" Garcia sounded near tears. But that was nothing new, she'd been sounding that way for nearly a year now.

"That plate didn't pan out?" Morgan asked.

"Not nearly well enough. It had been stolen earlier that day. The local sheriff found it abandoned on Highway 12 the next morning in the middle of nowhere."

"So whoever had them changed cars?" Morgan shook his head, "Slick. And no one saw anything?"

"Not according to the report. It was abandoned in farm country in the middle of the night in a snowstorm. People reported hearing the truck but no one stuck their head out to see. This gives us nothing else to go on!"

"It might."

"Let's go over it again." Rossi said.

They'd been doing this every Friday for a while now. At first they did this all day, every day, but it had been so long and there were so many cases. At least they seemed like so many, so many distractions now.

"Theresa, New York." Garcia said again. "The Sheriff called us in. They had found four bodies at that point." She put the pictures up on the board.

"All young men in their late teens and early twenties. Buried in deep, narrow holes to the neck. Arms bound behind their back. Their heads covered with a pile of rocks. Next to each body was a shovel covered with the victim's DNA and blood." Rossi nodded. "A classic stoning. And while we were there they found two more."

"They were all local to Theresa but students at SUNY Empire State." Morgan said. "That was our first commonality."

"But later you found that all the victims were homosexual." JJ said.

"Yeah. We also noticed that two of the victims had business cards for Victory Baptist Church back home in Theresa. It seemed like a long shot but we sent Seaver and Reid to ask around at the church, see if anyone knew anything." Morgan sighed. "They haven't come back yet."

"Pastor William Maesden and his wife Leslie and Deacon Roger Brunswick and his wife Kelly, along with their combined seventeen children, all went off the grid that night." Rossi said. "Their homes looked like they had packed for a long trip. There hasn't been any sign of any of them since."

"And the killings stopped then?" Emily asked.

"From what we could tell."

"So it was someone from one of those families."

"And no one in the church knew anything?" JJ asked.

"If they did they haven't said anything. Now we know they likely loaded everyone in that semi, including Ashley and Spencer, and took them...somewhere." Rossi said with a sigh. "That was nine months ago."

"And someone knew enough about law enforcement techniques to help them hide the evidence." Hotch said. "Garcia, does anyone in the congregation have law enforcement background?"

"Um...Yeah, there was a Sheriff's deputy, John Cosgrove."

"We should go talk to him."

"We can't. He disappeared two months after we moved out. No family, no connections, just poof." Garcia sounded like she was going to cry again.

That was all right. They all felt the same way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02**

 **Spencer Reid's apartment  
Washington DC**

 **October, 2011**

Every month, on the first of the month, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to go to Spencer Reid's apartment, much as Dave Rossi went to Ashley Seaver's. She opened the windows, checked the pipes, sorted and stacked the mail, and wiped up any dust. There was very little dust. "It's not fair." She said as she sagged on his couch.

This time Derek Morgan had come with her this time, to turn over the engine on Reid's car, or so he said. "I know momma." He said as he settled beside her. "I know the odds are slim, but those two are strong. They'll make it."

"I hope so. But, I mean, I don't know how long we can keep their lives going for them."

"The Bureau gives it seven years before they're declared dead. We've got time and resources; especially now that his Dad is paying for his Mom. I still can't believe he stepped up."

"I think Hotch went out and talked to him." Garcia said.

"That explains it. You know we just need one break. Then we'll be all over that and we'll get them home."

"But what are they going to be like when they get here? I mean they're going to be a mess, they have to be."

"I know. But once they're home safe we can help them figure it out."

Garcia sighed. "I hope so."

* * *

 **JJ Jareau's home  
Washington DC**

Later in the month it was JJ's turn to deal with the missing. "Mom! Is Spencer coming to my birthday party?" Henry asked.

JJ sighed and kept the worry in her eyes away from her son. "I don't know yet sweetie. He might have to work. I know he wants to be here though, very, very much."

Henry huffed in frustration. "Will he be here for Halloween?"

"I don't know."

"How about Christmas?"

"I don't know hun."

"Can I call him and ask?"

"Not right now. And before you ask I don't know when."

Henry threw himself onto the couch. "I miss him Mom! I want him to come play!"

JJ settled and pulled her son into her arms. "I know. So do I."

"Will I ever see him again?"

"I hope so."

* * *

 **Ashley Seaver's apartment  
Washington DC**

"This is my fault." Dave said as he opened the window of the tiny, feminine space.

"How do you figure?" Emily asked.

"She was too young, fresh out of the Academy. She wasn't ready for the BAU. She should be working in a field office somewhere, be safer."

"In that case it's as much my fault as it is yours. I was supposed to mentor her, not go off cowboying after Ian." Emily looked around the room and sighed. "She's strong. She'll make it. So will Spencer."

"I hope so."

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Federal Bureau of Investigation  
Quantico, BA**

"Agent Hotchner," Strauss called him in to her office. "You still need to find a replacement for Dr. Reid."

Hotch sighed. It wasn't that replacing Seaver was easy, not in the sense that any of this was easy, but it had been simple. JJ came back as a full profiler, for reasons of her own, and then Emily returned from the Valhalla Task Force. Either of them could carry Seaver's workload, the two of them were a formidable pair.

But Reid was different. "I haven't found anyone qualified."

"I have sent stacks of personnel files..."

"And none of them will work."

She sighed, annoyed. "I understand your team is in mourning..."

"You haven't sent me a multidisciplinary expert who has a court-certified eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words a minute, and who specializes in talking down delusional unsubs." Hotch was quiet a moment. "Dr. Reid cannot be replaced. If the workload becomes a problem I'll revisit the issue. For now my team is better off as it is."

Strauss was silent a long moment. "All right Aaron." As Hotch got up to go Strauss managed something like a smile. "They are strong agents. They could defy the odds here."

"I hope so."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Federal Bureau of Investigation  
Quantico, BA**

 **October 2011**

Even with people missing the work never ended.

"I call your attention to Stave Island, part of the Thousand Island National Park in Quebec Canada." Garcia said, putting a map up on the board.

"Canada?" Emily asked.

Garcia nodded. "Yeah. Three bodies turned up there last week, Dwayne Johnson, Luis Alvarez and Jimmy Cox. All washed ashore with their hands tied behind their backs and their necks broken like they had been hung."

"Black, Hispanic and white?" JJ said. "Race isn't a commonality, but gender is."

"As is age, twenty-one, and hometown, New York City, and that they were all foster kids who disappeared out of the system between the ages of ten and twelve."

"And they haven't been seen since?" Rossi asked.

"Nope. And one other thing, they all had some kind of STD, Dwayne had Syphilis and Luis and Jimmy had Gonorrhea. All three were originally pulled into the system for sexual abuse, but they disappeared before symptoms would have had a chance to show up."

"Is there any reason why we're being called in except for citizenship?" Hotch asked.

"There is indeed. Someone in the RCMP tracked the currents from where they found the bodies back to Grindstone Island which may or may not be on the US side of the border, apparently there isn't an accurate survey on the books. Grindstone Island used to be a lovely place for summer vacations until it was bought by Jonathon Rocheson about thirty years ago. All twenty-one square miles are now privately owned."

"Of Rocheson Medical Equipment?" Rossi had been reading ahead in the file.

"The one and the same; according to Clayton PD, who have jurisdiction, Rocheson did a lot of building out there until about ten years ago, then the place just shut down. There's little if any traffic out there now, one dock that's locked off, and a security cordon all around the island."

"Oh, there is so much bad here."

"Clayton PD called in New York State Police who have drafted the help of the RCMP and they are collectively issuing a no-knock warrant on the place at dawn tomorrow. They want us on hand to advise and help out in case this turns into a hostage situation."

"Oh. Joy." Rossi said. They collectively chuckled, it was him and Hotch they wanted, everyone else on the team was along for the ride on this one.

"We're in no rush." Hotch said, "Wheels up in an hour."

"And remember to pack warm things." Rossi said, "Just in case."

* * *

 **Clayton Municipal Building  
Clayton NY**

It was a good thing the weather was holding.

There was a church next door to the police station. The two buildings shared a parking lot. To try to keep it somewhat quiet the local LEO's had taken over the church hall as a staging area, with tents outside in the parking lot to add more room. "Do not take this the wrong way." A man in what looked kind of like a SWAT uniform with a Canadian flag on his shoulder was saying as they walked up. "But I hope the border makes a bump right about there."

Introductions were made all around, RCMP, Locals, State Police, FBI and even the Army was up out of Ft. Drum to provide logistical support. "Can you tell us anything more about the island's owner?" The Agent-in-charge asked at last.

Morgan checked his tablet and read what Garcia had found. "Jonathon Rocheson, 66, owner and CEO of Rocheson Medical. He made his fortune founding his medical devices company which focuses on wound care, and made a name for the company selling specialized hospital beds. He started it in a one-bedroom apartment in 1976. In November 2010 a consortium of private equity firms led by Ajax Partners closed a $6.3 billion acquisition of the company. Rocheson was the largest individual shareholder and sold his stake when Ajax took it private. Since then he's mostly invested through his Medcare Investment Funds, which manages his $1 billion in assets." There were a few whistles at that one. "He spends his time supporting his church and donating to extreme right-wing political candidates."

"So, what, is this his summer home?" The NYSP guy asked.

"The island's been used for that traditionally." The Clayton chief said. "There are, or were, eight major estates out there, built by the old robber barons. There's also a dairy, a small village, and a mill. Most of it is historical farmland, or it was before this guy moved in."

"We would expect that he inhabits one of the estates, likely the largest, and he's using the rest of them as summer homes for his guests." Rossi said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't fit the traffic pattern." The Clayton Harbormaster had been brought in because they had to use boats for this. "You would expect regular traffic in the summer then, wouldn't you? All those fancy boats and yachts like the other islands. But the only thing I've seen going back and forth for the past ten years is the caretaker picking up mail and supplies."

"And that's not what aerial surveillance is telling us either." The RCMP rep stepped forward and shared the images they had. "We spotted activity all over the island, centered on those big estates. Looks like most of that farmland is in harvest too."

The BAU team looked at the images, mystified. They had profiled for someone too wealthy, too powerful, who thought he could buy any indulgence, and had. Only what he had bought was spoilt so he threw the men away like broken toys. But that profiled to one big house, an expensive, private place to play. Not what they were seeing here. "We were going to say find the house with the activity and start there." Rossi said. "But now..."

The Agent-in-charge nodded. "We're going to have to take the whole island."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**

 **Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

The next morning the invasion force, for that was all it could be called, set out as dawn was barely touching the horizon.

Emily, JJ and Morgan had elected to go out with the other FBI agents, leaving Hotch and Rossi back at base to coordinate. There were three old landing areas where boats still might be able to dock. The RCMP was taking the northern one at what used to be Grindstone Village, the Americans were taking the southern two, the old upper and lower Town docks. Coast Guard from both countries were covering the western and eastern ends of the island, to make sure no one tried to get away. Morgan got the Upper Town group, while JJ and Emily went with the Lower Town group.

They used landing boats from the military to pull up to the docks. As the lead units pulled the fences out of the way they unloaded jeeps, the better to get around. It took more time than any of them liked, but eventually they got moving. The road up over the hill led into gentle countryside, glowing with the last of the summer's energy, the brilliant colors of fall. "It's gorgeous here." Someone murmured.

"Hopefully it'll become a vacation spot again." Someone else said.

They had been in constant radio contact with the other units, now someone started a slow, steady cursing in French into the radio. The RCMP rep with them took the radio and cleared his throat, pointedly. "Say again Unit One?"

"We've come up to the first cluster of buildings." The man on the other end of the radio said. "There are children everywhere!"

"Son of a bitch!"

"That's what I said!"

There was a quick re-grouping, and the decision was made to find the nearest someone in charge and see what was what here. The last thing anyone wanted to do was start shooting around children.

But that was very nearly what happened with the first group they found.

They came around a curve and found the first of those big estates laid out before them. It looked like one of those big British manor houses, the main pile surrounded by smaller buildings. And people, people in strange clothes who stopped and stared at the jeeps as they pulled up the road. And lots and lots of children.

They pulled up to where a man was doing some repair work on the gate. He was a younger man, his hair shaggy, his clothing ragged and his feet bare. "Who's in charge here?" The head of the unit asked.

The young man took them in with a scared look on his face. "Master Johnson." He said.

"Where is he?"

The younger man looked up at the house and shrugged. "Ask the Overseer." He pointed to a cluster of buildings around the back of the house.

The group revved their engines to head that way, but Morgan stopped their jeep. "Hold up." The others went on while he got down with the RCMP guy, the LEO's standing guard. "Kid, what's your name?" Morgan asked.

The younger man shrugged. "Don't got a name. Too low for that."

"What do they call you?"

"8753." The kid replied. He hooked his thumb into something around his neck and held it up so Morgan and the RCMP guy could look. "See."

They looked. There was a tag attached to a sturdy metal chain around his neck, stamped with the number '8753'. The chain was not locked, it had been welded in place. As he shifted they saw the back of it where two more tags held. One read 'Property of' and the other 'L. Johnson.'

Morgan looked at the RCMP guy, his eyes wide as he swallowed. "These are plantations." He said. "These people are slaves."

* * *

They ended up at the forward command posts at the docks, video conferencing everyone in. "They've hit three of the houses so far." Hotch said. "They've found roughly eighty slaves at each one, anywhere from newborns to fifty year olds."

"So we're looking at approximately six hundred victims?" Morgan said. Damn, that was a lot of bodies.

"Closer to seven hundred," Rossi said. "You have to take into account the children and grandchildren of what they're calling the Patriarchs and the Elders, as well as the Overseers. These people have been breeding like rabbits out here."

"I know what an overseer is." Morgan said. "And I'm guessing the Patriarchs are the plantation owners."

"The Elders look to be a class in between." Emily said. "Not wealthy enough to set up a plantation house, but still considered human by the plantation owners. They seem to be living in those small housing developments we saw on the surveillance photos."

"Could they have kidnapped this many children?" JJ asked.

"Only about a hundred and twenty children are the victims of a conventional kidnapping in the US every year." Andi Swan said. They had brought her in to the video conference when they realized what was going on. "Even if you account for the Canadian side of the border, what are thought to be runaways, kids missing from the foster care system and never reported, re-homed children..."

"Re-homed children?" JJ asked.

"Sometimes people adopt out of the foster care program thinking they have a handle on their children's problems. Then something shifts and everything goes out of control. They can't handle it anymore so they get on net forums and offer the child up for a new family, no questions asked."

"Is that legal?"

"It's not illegal. As you can guess it's predator central."

"Lovely."

"Even with that we're talking big numbers here. My guess would be that the majority of them have been born on the island."

"How are we going to sort this?" Emily asked.

"DNA," Hotch replied. "We're moving the victims down to Ft. Drum, they have room to set up shelter housing there. Then they're going to start matching children to parents, or to the NamUs database."

NamUs, Name Us, the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System. "These people are going to need a lot of help moving forward." Morgan said. "They've been raised to be slaves."

"I know." Hotch replied. "But first we need to get them out of there. How many arrests so far?"

"Forty-seven," Emily replied. "All of the adult plantation owners, Overseers and 'elders', any of them could have gone to the cops."

"Yeah, but some of the women are showing signs of Battered Women's Syndrome." JJ said. "Still, in each of those groups the adult males were openly carrying. That makes them complicit. How can this happen? I mean something this big in this part of the world."

"Money," Rossi said. "Enough money will buy you a lot of privacy. Rocheson has probably had like minded families moving there for decades now, into his own private fiefdom and off the grid."

"But why?"

"There has been a strain of conservative politics that has always lionized the Old South, the last great Christian Nation, where people lived according to true Biblical principles, including slavery. Seems like Rocheson and his wealthy friends threw enough money at the problem and re-created the Confederacy for themselves."

"Biblical?"

"Even Christ said 'slaves, obey your masters'."

"Agent Morgan?" One of the other agents was calling him over.

"I'll report back if I find anything new on this end." Morgan said to the video conference. He logged out and went over to the other table, "Yeah?"

"We raided another plantation." The younger agent said. "One of the slaves is saying he's an FBI agent."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05**

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

The first thing Morgan noticed when they drove up into the island center was that it was still early. The sun was glowing over the treetops in the east. There was just enough light to see the rich farmland around him. The fields looked heavy with the harvest, the trees an autumn rainbow, the cattle and sheep and horses calling to each other in the early morning as they moved out into their paddocks and to wagons loaded with hay. It was just cool enough for a mist to be rising off the land, the delicate blues and grays rising to meet the rose and gold of the clouds in the sky. It was all so peaceful, so serene. They were right, this place really was beautiful.

Too bad it was hell.

He had been too close to this case from the moment that kid showed him the collar around his neck. His father's family was descended from slavery, from the Jim Crow laws and the battle for civil rights. One of his uncles had walked the Edmund Pettis Bridge and still proudly showed the scars. He'd heard all the stories growing up, passed down from his grandparents, from their grandparents. When he was a kid they had given him nightmares.

Now part of him hoped whoever this guy was he was full of bullshit.

They drove past trucks full of people, all heading for the docks. This was turning into a cross between a no-knock warrant and a disaster drill, hundreds of people were being evacuated to Fr. Drum, while at the same time they had to winnow out the ones who were armed and protect the victims from any form of retributive attack. And preserve the evidence, all ready a couple of small fires had been knocked down. Morgan rather suspected they'd find a pattern in those, but he hadn't had time to delve into it yet. Any way you looked at it it was a giant mess, it was only luck that it wasn't a clusterfuck yet.

They went through one of those arched gates onto one of the plantations, and then off that a way. At the bottom of a small, steep hill they had set up a parking area. That was where Morgan met the agent-in-charge of this particular unit. He got out and looked around. Something was missing. "Where are the kids?" At the first one he'd been on the ground, there had been a flock of them running around, getting underfoot, trying to see what was going on.

"This one believes in educating his people." The agent-in-charge said as they started up the hill. "They were in school when we got here. The schoolmaster is the one saying he's an FBI agent. He's walking the kids down to the trucks, we can't get over the hills to them."

"He's helping?"

"Yeah. I don't know if he's an agent but so far he's the only one making any sense around here."

They topped the hill and Morgan saw it. It was an honest-to-god little red schoolhouse, complete with white trim and a bell in a little cupola, tucked into a little hollow next to a creek. Not that little, it was an L-shaped building, with a door in each wing, and in the corner a small yard with play equipment. A double line of children, aged maybe seven to thirteen, was walking toward them, quiet and not overly squirmy, about what you would expect from any elementary school. They were wearing queer, old-fashioned clothes, the boys in little vests, the girls in loose dresses and aprons and these bag like things on their head to hide their hair. But they seemed happy as they went, curious and not at all afraid.

Then Morgan spotted the teacher, and his heart managed to soar and break at the same time. "Son of a bitch."

The agent-in-charge looked at him. "He _is_ an agent?"

He was thinner than he had been, a scarecrow walking the field. He had on the blazer he had been wearing when he went missing over his slave clothes, battered now, and some kind of vest. His hair was ragged and too long, and his beard was thick and full and he leaned on a walking stick as they went. But he was walking, no obvious injuries, and he was still mentally present enough to get those kids organized and moving and keep them from being afraid. "He's been missing from our unit for ten months."

The agent-in-charge got it. "He's the one? Yes!"

Morgan started walking toward what had to be and had better not be a mirage. "Reid!"

The bearded scarecrow looked at him.

A moment later he had hands on his little brother again and to hell with anyone who thought two guys couldn't hug. It was all going to be all right now. It was all going to be all right.

When they pulled back Morgan looked in the eyes of his friend. He found, of all things, guilt there, and shame, and fear, all battling with a lot of relief and no little joy. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Spencer replied, and how good was it to hear him again. "Maybe. I don't know. I'm not injured." There was the sound of an engine, different from the others going out there. The anger in Spencer's eyes flared and went cold, never a good sign with the genius. "I need a badge and a gun and a pair of bolt cutters, in that order."

"Here." Spencer's badge was in Hotch's pocket. Morgan had on his FBI vest, so he pulled his off and handed it to Spencer, who looked at it like it was the Holy Grail. "You sure a gun is a good idea?" He looked like he might not quite have the control he needed for it.

"That's not the point." Spencer was keeping an eye on the base of the hill, where a modern utility truck had pulled up. The agents down there had surrounded it with weapons up, were getting the kids out of the way, were disarming the occupants.

All of a sudden Morgan intuited the point of the matter. He stepped around to shield what they were doing, pulled out his backup, and emptied it before handing it to Spencer. Spencer put the badge on his belt, open and bright, and stuck the gun there as well before heading down the hill. Morgan followed, calling over the radio for someone down there to bring him a pair of bolt cutters.

At the bottom of the hill the three men in the truck were on the ground and in cuffs. Morgan accepted the cutters and passed them off to Spencer, who stood before those men and cut the chain off his own neck. As Morgan put the chain in an evidence bag Spencer went down so the leader of the trio could see and hear him. "My _name_ is Doctor Spencer Reid." He said with that snap in his voice that betrayed his bone deep anger. "I'm a FBI Agent. Yeah. We told you that." He said as the memory came into the eyes of the leader. "My memory is accepted as fact by the US court system. When they try you for your list of crimes starting with assaulting a Federal Officer I will be there to testify. And when they lead you off to prison I will personally put the shackles on your wrists. Get them out of here." He snapped to the agents there, who got the men up and into the cars.

"Feel better?" Morgan asked. If he was right that was the overseer here. If it had been him he would have beat the shit out of him. But he wasn't Spencer.

"Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 05**

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

"We need to find Seaver." Spencer said. "I need to get the kids to safety. I need to call my Mom. I need to..." He stopped and rubbed his eyes, clear sign that his magnificent brain was not quite sparking on all cylinders.

"You don't need to do it all right now." Morgan said. "We got your back." He pulled out his phone and set it to speaker. "Prentiss. I found Reid."

"Are you serious?" Emily asked.

"I'm right here, Emily." Spencer replied.

"Oh my god! Is Seaver with you?"

"No. She came here with me but she's not on this farm. I don't know where she is, I haven't seen her since our first night here."

"All right, JJ and I will go find her. Don't worry."

"Thank you."

That was hard meant. As Morgan hung up the phone one of the kids came up and politely stood in front of Spencer. "May I speak Teacher?" Spencer nodded so the boy continued. "What's going on, Teacher? Where are we going?"

"Ummm..." Spencer looked at the world around him. "I actually have no idea. I don't even know exactly where we are."

"We're not far from where you went missing." Morgan said. "We're taking everyone to Ft. Drum for processing."

"Ah. Right." Spencer nodded. "So you're going somewhere that's probably going to have a lot of people and a lot of soldiers in uniform, like these people. Just follow directions from the people in uniform, try to stay together, and don't horse around too much. You'll be all right."

"Yes Teacher." The boy went to get on the truck but then he stopped again. "Are we going to see our Mothers again?"

Spencer turned to Morgan, who nodded. "That's the idea. But it may take a few days to sort it all out, so just do what your teacher told you for now, okay?"

When Morgan said yes the boy and every boy in the truck started grinning. "Okay!" Now the boy scrambled on the truck. Within moments they were off.

"See their mothers again?" Morgan said.

"They separate boy from their mothers when they turn seven and make them live with the men." Spencer said. "Breaking family bonds makes it easier to control them. Am I going to Ft. Drum?"

"No. We know where your family is."

"Is my go bag in the plane?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I would love to get a shower somewhere. And something to eat. And a shave." He scratched at that thick beard.

"You're going to need a barber to get through that. Come on. Speaking of." As they started walking back to the jeep Morgan pulled out his phone again. "Hey baby girl."

"Chocolate Thunder!" Garcia called out. "You haven't checked in with me! I've been worrying myself sick!"

"I'm fine momma. So is everyone else. I even have good news." He held out the phone.

Spencer smiled. "Hello Garcia."

"REEEIIIIIDDDDD!" She cried out. "Oh! My! God! You're alive! You're found! You're okay! Are you okay!"

"Mostly. Does anyone know how my Mom is doing?"

"Yes! Rossi's been keeping in contact with Dr. Norman, do you want me to call him?"

"Please? Tell him I'll call Mom later tonight."

"I will totally do that. OMG you're alive."

"I am."

But Spencer's adrenalin was burning off fast, Morgan could see him sagging. "Baby girl, I want to get our boy here into a shower. Can you find us a place to stay longer term?"

"I can do that and I will do that. I will have you back in a trice." Garcia hung up.

But now Morgan thought of something. From the time he got the call that they had found a Federal Agent to now had been maybe twenty minutes, most of that spent driving out here. "I haven't told Hotch yet." He realized as he keyed up the number.

But Spencer went pale when he heard that. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't..."

"Reid."

His little brother's face was stepped in more guilt and shame than he'd ever thought possible. "I can't face Hotch."

"Reid."

"I can't. Not yet, please. Not yet."

"Reid, whatever happened it's okay. We can fix it, all right? You don't need to talk about it today, we won't ask you anything. Okay?" He got Spencer to calm down and nod in agreement and not close those walls down again. "Come on. Let's get to where we're going."

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

Garcia got them what passed for a suite. Two bedrooms with a matchbook of a living room and kitchenette between them, and the rest of the team having rooms nearby. Spencer stood for a long moment looking at the bed in front of him, some complicated look of longing on his face. "You can lie in it you know." Morgan said.

"If I do I won't get up again."

"You haven't slept?"

"I've slept. In a bunk in a bunkhouse with forty other men and a straw stuffed pad on wood. That is a real bed?" Yep, that was longing.

"That is a real bed." Morgan said. Spencer had been having intermittent bouts of derealization, moments when this seemed more like a dream than reality. It was a very common reaction to trauma. But he also recognized what was happening, he hadn't slipped into outright delusion and most of the time his grip on reality and his own sense of self were strong as ever. He was showing signs of trauma, yes, but he was actually doing somewhat better than expected. "Have a nap if you want one. You don't have to be anywhere."

"The children..." They had stopped for Spencer's go bag, still in the plane from when he went missing so long ago. Now he collected it and stood there, indecisive.

"Are being looked after. Nothing is going to happen to them in the next few hours, they're going to take DNA and fingerprints and feed them lunch, that's all."

Spencer finally sighed and gave in. "Wake me in two hours. More than that and I won't sleep tonight." He picked up his bag and headed for his room.

"Hold up, we need to get evidence." Morgan watched Spencer's shoulders sag. "You know we need to do this."

"I know." Spencer replied. "I just want this over with." He was quiet a moment, then, "I don't want to freak you out."

"Accepted. Let me get another agent in here for custody." Except there was one thing. For a moment Morgan's blood ran cold. "Do we need to get you in for a rape kit?" He asked while not looking at Spencer.

"No. Absolutely not, that didn't happen."

Morgan looked back, saw that Spencer was telling the truth, and felt a rush of relief. "Okay then."

The other agent came in and as they watched without really looking Spencer stripped off and turned in his clothing for evidence. They took pictures of his general condition and any injuries, which was too thin and some chafing on his neck from the collar. Otherwise he looked fine.

From the front.

When he turned Morgan saw why Spencer didn't want to freak him out. It looked like they used an extension cord for a lash, the curled scars left behind were distinctive. "Some of the children made a mistake." Spencer said. "It was better if I took the blame for it."

"Don't blame you for that." Morgan tried to keep his tone as light as Spencer's, but inwardly he wanted to rage. He took a beating instead of one of those children. "The one you called out?" He asked.

"Yeah." Spencer replied. "I'm okay though. It was a while ago." He was right, those scars were fully healed.

"All right. You got a name to go with that?"

Spencer did, and together they did the paperwork that would put that overseer in his own chains for a very long time. After that Spencer took his leave to go take that shower and nap. While pretty boy did that Morgan called down to the desk and set about turning their living room into a meeting space. Everyone else was focused on the larger case at hand, which they were still working on as well, but they also had to coordinate the resolution of Reid and Seaver going missing, and being able to keep everything separate would be a help. "There you are baby girl." He said, once he had one of the laptops set up on the table they brought in.

"Hey! How's Reid?"

"Hot shower and a real bed, he is out."

"Oh good! He's safe, you have no idea how happy that makes me!"

"About as happy as that makes me. Any word on Seaver?"

"Um, not...wait, Emily is here." Garcia did something or other. "Hey. I'm conferencing with Morgan."

"Can you get Hotch and Rossi in on this too?" Emily asked.

"Sure, in a trice."

A moment later Mom and Dad appeared in another window. "What do you have?"

"We found Seaver." Emily said. "She was working in the kitchen in one of the plantation houses."

"How is she?" Rossi asked.

"Pregnant." Emily replied. "Seven months, at least."

"Oh my god." Garcia said.

"Did she say what happened?" Rossi asked, his face gone clouded dark.

"No. When she saw us she went hysterical. We're at Samaritan Medical Center in Watertown now; they're sending all the pregnant women and infants here. She's under sedation; JJ is in there with her. They're concerned about preterm labor."

"Oh god." Rossi groaned. "I'll head that way."

"How's Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Sleeping Beauty is out like a light." Morgan replied. "He's showing some of the expected psychological reactions to trauma but nothing overwhelming. It looks like they had him working as a teacher, that might have given him more autonomy, been in a safer position. From the sound of it a lot safer than Seaver."

"Then why didn't he try to leave or contact us?" Emily asked.

"I'm not sure." Hotch said. "Those collars had an electronic component. One of the teams here is looking in to it."

"One thing is that when I tried to call earlier he nearly shut down on me. Hotch, he is terrified of facing you."

"Me?"

"Yep. Something happened but he is nowhere close to talking about it. But the way he's acting I think it was an isolated incident, he's not acting like there was systemic abuse here."

"Whatever it was, tell him he's forgiven." Rossi said. "He's alive, that's all that matters."

"Thankfully we have a solid case." Hotch replied. "And with his memory we can wait a day to debrief him. All right, Dave is heading to the hospital. Emily, when he gets there come back here. They're saying they found some kind of records system and some unusual buildings, we should see what we can find. Morgan, you stay with Reid."

"Once he gets up I'm going to get him fed, then he'll probably want to head to the shelter and check on the kids." Morgan said. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him after that."

"Just keep us in the loop. Garcia, once we get a hold of those records we might need you and Kevin to help."

"My keyboard is at your command, my liege."

Hotch nodded. "All right, let's go."

Morgan rang off, content that all of their people were where they needed to be and their end, at least, was under control. The only problem was that Spencer had said two hours, he still had forty-five minutes to go before he had to wake sleeping beauty.

He called down to the desk and got a line on some likely places around that delivered if Spencer didn't want to go out. Then he checked the weather report. Then he checked his e-mail. Then he sent a note to his very private family group on Facebook that yes, his teammates had been found at last, trusting that Garcia had the privacy settings nailed down. He chatted with his Mom online for a few minutes, mostly how glad she was to hear that everyone made it through alive.

Finally he decided that ten minutes either way wasn't going to matter all that much and went to knock on sleeping beauty's door. "Reid."

No answer.

"Hey Reid."

Nothing.

"Reid!"

How hard was he sleeping?

"Reid!"

Thankfully the connecting door wasn't locked. He let himself in, intending to throw pillows at the younger agent until he woke up.

But the bed was empty.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 07**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"Son of a bitch!" Morgan said.

The bed looked slept in, but there was no Spencer in it.

He checked the bathroom. Nope

He checked his room and bathroom. Nope

Goddamn it!

He checked Spencer's go-bag. The toiletry kit was in the bathroom. It looked like it had been gone through, items removed, likely Spencer got dressed. His vest was still in the bottom, but his FBI windbreaker was missing. These were not signs that Spencer had been taken; these were signs that he left. I do all the door kicking, Morgan thought; surely Reid does not need both legs.

He headed out to see where Spencer might have wandered off to, which couldn't have been anywhere. This hotel was in the middle of a parking lot, next to a strip mall with the usual insurance offices and nail places, and across the street from a Wal-Mart. There was no place nearby that would interest the young doctor, was there?

But just as Morgan stepped into the hall he spotted Reid coming around the corner from the elevator hall and heading toward him. "Where the hell have you been?" Morgan snapped.

Spencer lifted the cups he was carrying. "The nap didn't help." He admitted. "I walked outside for some air."

"Why didn't you tell me?" At least he brought coffee.

Spencer's face clouded with confusion. "I did." He lifted a cup that smelled faintly minty.

"No you did not."

"I thought I did."

Trauma. Kid was a little confused. At least he hadn't gone far. "I swear to god I am going to have Garcia sew GPD chips in your underpants. Come here. Let me get my gear, we're going to go get something to eat."

"Actually I think we need to head to Ft. Drum." Spencer said.

"Why."

"Because the people from the island need to go back."

* * *

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State**

"What do you mean they have to go back?" The colonel in charge of the evacuation asked.

"Most of the prisoners on that island came there as children." Spencer replied. "Or they were born there. They've never lived in our world. They've never driven in a car or used the internet. They've never even eaten processed food, the lunch you've been planning would sicken most of them. Once it's safe they need to go back to familiar surroundings, the safest and healthiest way for them to transition back to modern society is to start there."

"He's right." Hotch said, and the other experts nodded their agreement. He had greeted Spencer with a hug and a reassurance that he would not need to be debriefed today. But Spencer still couldn't look at him, something was still there.

"Right now we have to re-sort them into their communities, separated by farms." Spencer continued. "Each farm has some community leaders, we identity those people and then assign each one a liaison or two from the groups helping to resettle them. Then they can take it from there."

The Colonel nodded. "Makes sense. How are you going to resort them?"

Spencer thought. "Literacy is going to be a problem..."

* * *

The refugees had been placed in large warehouses once used by the logistics division on base. Now those buildings were quickly re-labeled, and then Spencer gathered all several hundred of them out onto the giant tarmac in front of the buildings. He got up on the back of a truck and addressed the crowd. "Good morning." He said. "Most of you don't know me, I'm the schoolmaster over at Parson Farm."

"Oh, you're the one." Someone called out. There was a general chuckle at that.

Spencer smiled and continued. "I know you're all confused and probably scared right now. I'm going to come around and answer all the questions I can, but first we need to get everyone sorted out. I want all the mothers who have their children with them to keep them with them, all right?" There was a general bustle of women pulling little children in closer. "Now, see that building down there where the men are waving red flags?" They looked to the left where soldiers were waving red flags in front of a red marked warehouse. "That's for the people from Parson Farm. Everyone from Parson Farm head down there now." The group muttered and moved as some of the people started heading that way. "Now, over on that end, see the building with the blue flags? That's for people from Wilcox Farm."

In a short time each farm community that was already on base sorted themselves and moved to their respective buildings. This left only the children from the Elder's settlements, who were moved to their own building with a white flag. "Most of them likely have relatives out in the world who can be contacted." Spencer said. "Treat them as CPS removals."

"We can do that." One of the social workers said, and headed off to get started.

Spencer went to Parson Farm first. They set up a small platform for him. "Hey Teacher!" Someone called out as he came in, and he was greeted with smiles

Spencer grinned in return and gathered them all around. "Okay, I know you're all confused about what's going on. Master Parson, his older sons and the overseers have been arrested."

"Finally!" An older man in battered work clothes with an air of authority at the front said.

"Why?" Someone asked.

"It's like I've been telling you all these years." The older man said. "Slavery is illegal!"

Spencer nodded. "That's right. That means none of you are slaves anymore, you're all free."

There wasn't the murmur of happiness Morgan would have expected. Instead there was a confused stillness. "So what does that mean?" Someone asked.

"Well, for right now you're going back to the farm, likely later this afternoon. You'll need to keep organized like you have been, look after the animals and get the harvest in. And look after each other, take care of the children and keep everyone fed, that sort of thing. Over time the people who will be going out with you are going to help you figure out what you want to do."

"Will the Overseers be there?" Someone asked.

"No. No more overseers. No more lashes and no more punishments...And no more Night Barns."

Morgan didn't know what a Night Barn was, but hearing that they were gone brought cries of relief and huge smiles from the crowd. He met Hotch's eyes and knew that the other agent would be looking into the significance of that as well.

"So who's going to be in charge then?" Someone asked. "You?"

"No, I'm, um, going back home myself. Foreman and Housekeeper are going to be in charge. They're going to work with Sergeant Hern and Sarah Jones back here who are going to help get everything sorted." The two liaisons standing behind him smiled and waved. "The important things right now are that mothers are going to be reunited with their children. If your children have been traded off they will be found and brought to you. It may take a few days, but just be patient, they're being looked after. And anyone who considers themselves married should speak up when asked about it, families can stay together now, the fence is coming down." More than a few couples met eyes and grinned and moved to find each other, including Housekeeper and Foreman and more than a few same-sex couples. Spencer looked around and took a deep breath. "Another important thing, the people here are going to ask for your names." That brought an unhappy murmur from the crowd. "You don't have to share if you don't want to. It's entirely up to you. For now stay with your community, and remember your color is red. Anyone who's missing will be brought here. If you have any questions bring them to Sarah and Sergeant Hern, all right?" There were nods all around, and a general air of relief and acceptance. Spencer just smiled. "Good luck everyone." With that he stepped away.

He rejoined Hotch and Morgan and the Colonel at the door. "Why no names?" The Colonel asked.

"That's complicated." Spencer replied. "These people have been isolated for decades, for many their entire lives. They've built an entire culture to help them survive. They'll be much more willing to cooperate and work with us if we respect that culture. By community custom most people are addressed by some variant of their number. Community leaders by a work title. Even if their name comes up in a database, ask them if they want to know it or want it used. If they say no, use whatever form of address they give you."

The Colonel nodded. "Any other customs we need to know about?"

"Respect family units. Those ties run deep here. And the society leans matriarchal, expect mothers to make decisions for families and men to defer to them. Other than that nothing right off the top of my head."

"All right."

The FBI agents stepped out then. "Well done Agent Reid." Hotch said.

"Thank you." But Spencer still couldn't look him in the eye. Now he sighed and looked exhausted. "Seven more to go."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State**

 **October 2011**

Seven more buildings later and Spencer was starting to go a bit hoarse. But everything was organized now, or as organized as something like this could be, and the powers in charge were much happier than they had been. "Nice." Emily said as they stood back on the tarmac and surveyed the scene. "This should work."

"I hope so." Spencer said. "I know you're all looking for signs of Stockholm syndrome. I'm not identifying with our captors, but the other victims really are good people for the most part. They deserve their own lives."

"I'm sure they'll find that." Hotch said.

"Teacher!" Someone called from the direction of the Parson building. They turned that way and found the housekeeper coming out with two of the children. She was wearing the common dress of the women here, a loose cotton dress, a smock-like pinafore over it in creamy white linen and a bag of a hat which completely concealed her hair. She was waving to get Spencer's attention. "Teacher!"

Spencer waved her over. "Hello Housekeeper. How are you holding up?"

"This is insane." She was in her late 40's or early 50's, confident, command presence, neat as a pin in her unusual dress. "I didn't think freedom would be so confusing. Hopefully we'll get some organization going soon. The children wanted to give you something to remember them by and I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment."

"Of course."

The team stepped away to give them some privacy. "Okay, that is adorable." Emily said as the children gave him a picture.

"That's Reid for you." Morgan said with a chuckle.

"What are your plans for this afternoon?" Hotch asked him.

"Feed him and take him to medical for a once over." Morgan replied. "He seems all right to me but they worked him over at one point, I think we should be sure. I'm playing it by ear after that."

"All right. Garcia is working with the IT people here on the records they discovered. JJ and Rossi are still at the hospital with Seaver."

"Anything new on that?"

"They're keeping her for a few days, she's been having contractions off and on." Emily said. "Apparently she can't identify the father. We're going to have to use DNA."

"Damnit."

"Has anyone told Reid yet?" Emily asked.

"I don't think so. I told him we found her and JJ and Rossi were with her, that's all." Morgan waited with the others while Spencer finished up with the Housekeeper, ending with hugs all around, then they joined him in the shadow of the building. "Did you know Seaver is pregnant?"

Spencer stopped and stared at him, a look of horror coming over his face. "No." He said. "It...it wasn't me. Excuse me." He turned and walked quickly into the building.

The others looked at themselves and followed, until he hit the bathroom door at a dead run. They hung back when they heard the sound of him being noisily sick. "That's unexpected." Emily said.

"My, ahem, gut is telling me that he's not going to want to talk about it." Morgan said.

One of the women approached them. "Excuse me." She said. "Is Teacher all right?"

"Um, probably." Emily said. It was an opening and she took it. "He just heard some disturbing news. A friend of ours was being kept on another farm, like you all were. She's pregnant."

At that the woman's demeanor shifted. Her hands knotted in the coal grey apron many of them wore over their shapeless smocks and she looked down at the floor. "We don't discuss such things." She said. "Excuse me." With that she moved away.

"Uh huh." Emily said. "That's interesting. All these children and they don't talk about pregnancy?"

"We need to know more." Hotch turned and looked at Emily. "Let's go see what we can learn about their culture."

* * *

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

Hotch and Emily returned to the farm where Spencer had been held, tapping in to the social capitol he held with the people there in order to get what help they could in learning more about the slave culture on the island. The foreman and the housekeeper had kindly sent along two guides, a couple of nineteen year olds who claimed to be apprentices to the woodwright and the baker. Both of them were friendly and open, in this innocent, sunny way that went more with farm kids than with imprisoned slaves. The only bad part was that neither of them had names, or wanted them.

"You don't have to use a name if you don't want to." Emily said. "What would you like me to call you? 5729?"

"Five is fine."

"Well, Five, I prefer to be called Emily."

"Really?" Five turned bright red. "All right."

"Most people call me Hotch." Hotch said. He looked at the boy. "What would you like us to call you?"

The boy rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Most folks call me Seven."

"Seven it is. Can you show us around?"

Neither of the young people had ever been in the big house. Hotch and Emily weren't as interested, by now the island was crawling with every law enforcement officer anyone in the region could spare. A team from the NYPD was gathering evidence in there, they would get the reports later. The same was true of the Overseers house. "What's that back there?" Hotch asked, pointing to a structure on a concrete pad covered with a corrugated tin roof behind the Overseers house.

"That's the whipping post." Seven said. "That's where they take you if you cross them."

"Oh." Hotch said.

The working compound proved to be much more interesting. This was their home, this large cluster of buildings with everything from the horse barn to the main kitchen. None of these buildings were electrified, although they were thankfully plumbed, and for the most part the place was run on 19th century technology. They decided to split up, Hotch getting a detailed tour of the wood shop and Emily pausing in the bakery for a sample of some truly amazing wood-fired bread. "You made this?" She asked.

"Uh huh." Five replied. "Bread is the first thing you learn. I'm working on biscuits now. I'll get them properly flakey yet."

"I'm sure you will. Can I see where you live?" Five nodded and led Emily out that way. As they walked she could see the farm fields, heavy with the harvest, rolling off toward the forest on the horizon. "You know, this place really is beautiful."

"I never thought about it until today. Does every place off the island look like where we're staying?"

Like a military base? "No, some can be uglier, but a lot of it is this beautiful."

"Huh. Might be interesting to see someday." Five led her one of two courtyards, both gated, set side-by-side. "This is the single women's bunkhouse." She said, as she opened the door to one of the rooms around the courtyard.

Emily was faced with a long room, with battered wood walls and floor, and a tin ceiling. A large, potbellied stove at either end would provide heat and hot water. Between the two were two rows of wooden bunks, two beds per bunk, ten on a side, for a total of room for forty women. The room was painfully tidy, each bunk neatly made up, the items in the cubbies at either end of the bunk carefully folded and put away. "Which bed is yours?" Emily asked.

"This one." Five led her to a bottom bunk about a third of the way down and settled on it. "And this is my cupboard." She nodded to the one that faced the center aisle.

"May I?" With Five's permission she took a look in there. A shelf on the bottom set aside a space for shoes, of which Five had one pair other than the sandals she was wearing. On that shelf were her meager belongings, a small basket with yarn and knitting needles, and a small box. "What's in the box?"

"My mending kit." She blushed. "Seven made it for me."

"Oh, that's sweet." A few more of those shapeless dresses and dark aprons hung from a bar in the center along with a winter coat. There was a shelf above which held what were likely undergarments and mittens and such, and there were two hats on top. On one side a bar held a towel, on the other a hook held a nightdress. And that was all. All this girl had in the world and it would fit in one suitcase. I have more in my go-bag, Emily thought. "And all the single women live here?" Emily asked as she looked around. "What do you mean by single?"

"Without children. Once you have your first baby you move to the Mother's house."

"One of the women back in the hall said you don't talk about pregnancy."

Five chuckled. "That's not true; we talk about the babies all the time."

Huh. Something didn't add up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

Something didn't add up. The woman back on base had been quite firm about not wanting to discuss the issue. She had shut down hard enough to make it clear that the subject of pregnancy was taboo. Or was it pregnancy? "Five, do you know where babies come from?" Emily asked.

Five looked at her like she might be a bit dim. "From their mother's bodies." She said.

"Yeah, but do you know how they get started?" Five considered this and shook her head. "Right. Okay. Now I have noticed that men and women are kept pretty far apart most of the time here."

"Yes. Men to men's work, women to women's work. You're not supposed to spend time alone, although sometimes you get a few minutes here and there." She said it like it was a special thing.

"Right." Pregnancy wasn't taboo here, but sex and sexuality were. Spencer had said that couples could relate openly, which had provided some relief among the groups. Paring off was apparently forbidden although love always seemed to find a way. But then where did all of these kids come from? There were too many for the Overseers to keep up, even the most devout rapist wasn't that active. While Emily considered this she'd been looking around at the different beds and cupboards. One caught her eye. "Who's bed is this?" She asked.

Five looked over. "2711. She's the schoolmistress."

"Schoolmistress?" This shelf held a small stack of books, as well as larger handiwork baskets. There was even a notebook and a box that looked to hold pens and ink.

"Yes. She teaches the little girls like the schoolmaster teaches the boys. Master Parsons likes everyone to know their letters and numbers; he says that makes us better workers."

"Good for him." Emily wasn't going to poke through private belongings, or evidence. Schoolmistress, maybe Spencer knew her. Maybe she would tell them more. But right now she just had Five to work with. The people back on base had been relieved to hear that the Masters and Overseers were gone, and that they could live openly as couples and families, but what had relieved them even more. "Five, what can you tell me about the Night Barns?"

"Nothing." Five replied. "I'm too young to be called out for them. They call you out when you turn twenty-one, I'm only nineteen."

"Call you out?"

Five nodded. "After everything is cleaned up after dinner we have quiet time. You know, when you can come in and mend anything, wash up, brush your hair, that sort of thing. That's when the Overseers come to the door and call out numbers who have to go with them to the Night Barn. When they come back its lights out."

"But you don't know what happens in there? No one's ever told you?"

"No, we're not allowed to talk about it."

"Did the Overseers tell you that?"

"No, no one does. You just don't. If you ask too many questions Housekeeper tells you to stop because you're making people upset."

Housekeeper. Emily couldn't put her finger on it, but this was setting off all her instincts. "Can you show me where this Night Barn is?"

"Sure." Five got up and led her out of the bunkhouse and down the covered walkway to another building. It was also long and low, this time made out of cinder blocks with a tin roof. But when they opened the door the distinctive reek of smoke came out of it. "Oh!" Five covered her nose with her apron and backed away.

Emily pulled out her flashlight and shone it around the interior. Sure enough, it was completely charred. The solid walls and metal roof had kept the fire from spreading but it had intensified the flames. Nothing remained in there but charcoal and soot. "Wow." Emily said.

"That was deliberate." Hotch said behind her. She turned and saw him and Seven standing there. Hotch nodded to a barrel that reeked of turpentine that had been discarded nearby.

"Destroying evidence?" Emily asked.

Hotch turned to Seven. "Do you know who tried to burn this building down?" He asked.

Seven shrugged. "Foreman ordered it, I heard him say. Don't know who actually did it."

"How much do you want to bet that the fires reported on the other farms were the other Night Barns?" Emily asked.

"Very likely." Hotch replied.

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

"They didn't attack the Masters." Rossi said. It was later that day. Most of the team was meeting in their suite, only JJ remained at the hospital with Seaver and was on a video link. "They didn't attack the Overseers. They didn't attack the big houses or the Overseers' homes or even the whipping posts. All their rage was concentrated on those buildings. Which means that all of the shame in this community was concentrated there as well."

"But we don't know what went on in there." Hotch said. He looked over at Spencer. "Did you ever see what was in there?"

Spencer didn't look at him, didn't look at any of them. He was all but huddled into a ball, looking down at his hands, pulling away from everyone and everything. "Yes." He said.

"Can you tell us what went on in there?" Hotch asked. But Spencer only shook his head. "All right. Have you called your Mom yet?" He made it sound like an afterthought as only Hotch could.

"No."

"Why don't you." It was a dismissal, but one carefully couched so as to show no sign of displeasure. Spencer took the hint and went to the other room.

"Okay, could these be rape shacks?" Emily asked as soon as Spencer was out of earshot.

"He said he wasn't raped." Morgan replied.

"Yeah, but it fits the way he's acting."

"No true slave owner would lower themselves to catting around in the slave quarters." Rossi said. "They'd bring their victims back to someplace comfortable. Same thing with the overseers."

"So what went on in there?" Morgan asked. "It has to be some kind of torture; the entire community hated those places."

"I don't know. But the only one who might be willing to tell us isn't talking."

"There might be someone else." Emily said. When we were out there our guide said that there was another schoolteacher, 2711. She taught the girls while he taught the boys."

"Co-worker. Maybe friend?"

"She was the only woman there with a stack of books."

"That would be someone Reid would get close to if he could."

"I think I'm going to go interview her."

"Andi Swan's people are here, see if someone from her unit can go with you." Hotch said.

"That'll work." Emily nodded and found her phone.

"I'm going back to the hospital." Rossi said. He looked over at Morgan. "What are you going to do?"

"Keep working on Mr. Wizard. Maybe if I can get him to calm down he'll tell me what's going on."

"Good luck."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

Emily hooked up with Andi Swan, and they returned to the Parson Farm building. "Hey, Five," Emily called to her guide from earlier.

"Emily!" The girl looked up from where she was helping with the evening meal and greeted her with a sunny smile. "Did you hear? We're spending the night here!"

"Oh, really?"

"They said it wasn't safe to go back yet, we're going home after breakfast. What an adventure!"

"I know." Emily looked around. "Have you seen 2711? I need to talk to her."

Five looked around at the people in the room. "Um, no, I haven't seen her all day."

"Okay. I'll go look for her." Emily's first stop was with the liaison. "Sergeant Hern, is everyone off Parson Farm?"

"Evacuated out, yes. Foreman sent a small crew back with my men an hour ago to settle the farm animals in for the night but they're accounted for. Why?"

"Has 2711 been processed?"

Hern turned to his computer. "Um...no, no one with that identification came through here. They might have gone to one of the other buildings by mistake, literacy has been a problem."

"Not this time. She's one of the teachers."

"Really? I'll check the other buildings anyway, and with medical. Do you have a description?"

"I'll go ask your friend for one." Andi said.

"Why do you want to find her?" Hern asked.

"We think she might be a witness to a particular incident."

"There's a laundry list of those."

"This one involving a Federal Agent."

"Ahhh, that makes sense." He checked his computer. "No, she hasn't gone through any of the other buildings. Are you sure she even exists?"

"My guide said she did. Who has the records they found?"

"One of the techs at Quantico was taking point on that."

"And I can guess which one. Thank you." Emily pulled her phone out. "Hey Garcia."

"Hey lady."

"Have you transcribed those records yet?"

"All of them? Not even. It's going to take days; there is a ton of data."

"Damn. How far have you gotten with Parson Farm?"

"Oh, you are lucky. Parson Farm is the only one that kept digital records; we have all of them up and ready to go."

A lucky break at last. "What can you tell me about 2711?"

"2711...she's 21, she was acquired when she was seven, poor kid...according to this she was tutored by another slave, who looks to be the former schoolmaster, then apprenticed to that slave...and then she was given the job of schoolmistress when that slave died of natural causes three years ago."

"So Parson was paying her special attention?"

"From the looks of it. There's a note in here that someone named J. Duncan was to see Parson about her assignment."

"Who is J. Duncan? What assignment, it sounds like she already had work."

"The head Overseer. He's in custody. And I have no idea."

"I might go talk to him then. Thanks Garcia."

Andi came back about then. "According to Five, and confirmed by some of the other women, 2711 is Caucasian, under four-ten, under a hundred pounds, and brown eyes."

"Man, she's tiny! And no one has seen her?"

"No one I've talked to so far."

There was one other person to ask. Emily headed to a nexus of activity. "Excuse me, Housekeeper?"

The woman was very efficiently keeping everything running. But when she saw who was calling she gave them her full attention. "Yes?"

"I need to speak to 2711. Have you seen her?"

Housekeeper had lived on the island since the beginning. She'd been thirteen when she got there, and now, at 45, she'd lived a lifetime of hiding her true feelings to pacify her captors. But Emily was a well-trained profiler; she saw the flash of fear and concern that crossed the older woman's eyes. "I'm sure she's here somewhere." She answered calmly.

Damn. "Housekeeper, she's not in any trouble. None of you are. And the people who have been tormenting you are in prison, you're safe now. We just need to talk to her for a few minutes, that's all."

Housekeeper looked at her for a long moment, and then at the others around them before nodding them over to the side. "Some things you need to leave alone."

"But..."

"Foreman and I know what's going to happen. We know what you have to do."

Wait a minute. "We?"

"Just leave it alone for now. Give them a little time." With that Housekeeper walked off.

"What was that about?" Andi asked.

"I don't know. But my hunch tells me that Reid is in the middle of it. And he's not talking."

"Look." Andi nodded to where Housekeeper was talking to Foreman. Foreman looked at them and then they both went to talk to the others, spreading the word. "We're being stonewalled. Now what?"

"First we find that girl." Emily went back to Hern. "Someone's missing." She said.

"2711?"

"She might be back on the island somewhere." She gave Hern the description. "We need to find her. And I don't think these people are going to help."

"I'll have the men on it."

"Thank you." Emily turned to Andi. "I think we should head to the island, see if the scene tells us anything. In the morning we try the Unsubs."

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

Morgan hadn't intended to ask Spencer anything today. His memory would hold, that wasn't an issue, and whatever it was it was clear that when his little brother got too close to it he couldn't hold it together anymore.

But now someone was missing, and that changed things. So when Spencer came out Morgan looked. "2711." He said.

Spencer stopped in his tracks. A look of fear crossed his face, followed by a wave of guilt, which ended in dull resignation as he sank into a chair and rested his head in his hands. Morgan could see the weight he was carrying then; it was nearly bowing him in two. "I...fucked up." Spencer admitted quietly, "Probably twice now."

He fucked up. This might explain it. But Morgan wasn't going to make any assumptions now. "Any way we can fix it?"

"Part of it. The rest..." Spencer couldn't look at him. "The Bureau is going to fire me." He said. "You should all hate me."

"Is this worse than what happened after Hankel?" Because they didn't hate him or fire him when he was using. How much worse could this be?

"I think so." Spencer blinked as another thought came to him. "I'm clean. It's not that."

Uh oh. "That's good. You know, the rest of us might disagree with you." But that didn't help. "First things first." There was no way to ask this gently. "Are we looking for a body?"

"No." He slumped even lower.

"Then where is she?"

"Hiding." Morgan saw that defensive wall go up in his little brother's eyes. "I already hurt her once, Morgan. I know she's going to be hurt again by the questions everyone needs to ask. She deserves at least one night of freedom before that happens."

Oh hell. "You hurt her?" Whatever he did that was what was eating Spencer alive. The Spencer Reid he knew would never deliberately harm anyone. "And you think she's safer out there?"

"I tried to go get her."

Wait, what? "You tried to go get her? When?"

For a moment the older Spencer peeked through. "You really thought I needed a two-hour nap at nine in the morning? I stole your keys and went back to the island for her."

Son of a... "Okay, okay, stop. Don't worry about the Bureau right now, we can work around that." He was trying to keep her out of the system. Morgan wasn't sure he could blame him for that; the system could be a nightmare. "Emily is on her way there, let's have her go get her and bring her here and we'll figure it out. No matter what happened you're not losing us." Morgan pulled out his phone.

"She deserves one night Morgan." And with that Spencer shut down completely.

Son of a bitch.

* * *

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

"Okay, so where would he hide her?" Emily asked Andi

"Well, she's a teacher. Did we actually clear the schoolhouse?"

The schoolhouse. It was a good call, Emily thought, the last place they would go to look for evidence. And the schoolmaster was an Agent, if he said the building was empty they'd take him at his word.

Emily got out of the car and walked up the hill, her following the well-worn path in the grass. She opened the door and walked into a room of rough desks and simple blackboards. And at the front a pile of books on the teacher's desk. There was a figure sitting there, a woman little bigger than a girl who's feet did not quite touch the floor and who was intent on her reading. When she heard their steps she looked up, surprised.

Emily smiled. "Hello Teacher."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Parson Plantation  
Grindstone Island  
St. Lawrence River  
New York state**

 **October 2011**

"Hello." The woman at the desk said. "Are you a friend of Teacher? The other Teacher I mean, the schoolmaster."

"I am." Emily nodded. "I'm Emily."

"Oh." The woman beamed a smile and stood. She barely came up to Emily's shoulder. "Emily who speaks Spanish, French, Italian, Arabic and Russian, who's lived all over the world and who lives on her own with a cat named Sergio? That Emily?"

They were right about the friendship at least, "That Emily."

"Oh! It's good to meet you; the schoolmaster said you were family. Is it time to go then?" She started collecting books and items off her desk into a basket.

"It is. I'm sorry, you can't take anything. They haven't gone through this building for evidence yet."

She looked at Emily very calmly, but very firmly. "These are my belongings, they go with me." She swept a few things into a basket and came around the desk, her indigo blue apron swinging against her bare ankles. "Are we going to the schoolmaster?"

"Yes, we are. We're parked at the bottom of the hill."

* * *

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State**

Emily and Andi decided to take Teacher to get her into the system before they brought her back to the hotel. When she entered the building they were greeted with many friendly calls and more than a couple of hugs. These were a small people, a hallmark of less than optimal nutrition, but even with that she was the smallest one here. "Okay, have a seat." Emily said, guiding Teacher over to one of the tables where they were trying to identify people.

Teacher sat rather primly, her toes just scraping the floor. "Okay, let's start with your number." The registrar said.

"2711." She replied.

"OK, if you'll put your hand here we can check fingerprints." Teacher obligingly placed her hand against the screen for a scan. "Is there anything you like us to call you?"

"Teacher is fine."

"I'm going to guess your occupation is schoolteacher then?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And your age?"

"Twenty-one."

"Okay." The registrar looked. "We have you in the system; would you like to know your name?"

"I know my name, thank you. I also know the one my mother gave me. I don't mind if others know that name, it is a good description of me. And I know you prefer I use one. You may, if you like."

It was clear that her legal name held no more meaning for her than her number, but perhaps another name meant a great deal. "All right," Emily nodded and looked around at the screen. "Talitha Jensen, aka Tally Jensen, age 21, from Pasadena, California. Your parents are Monica and Berjur Jensen, also of Pasadena. Stranger abduction when you were seven. Would you flag that file for our tech, please." Emily asked.

"Sure." The registrar nodded. She turned back to Tally. "Do you have any children?"

"No."

"Is that common?" Andi asked.

"At her age. We're not finding anyone under 22 with children."

"That's because you're not an adult until you're 21." Tally replied. "You're a child until you're seven, a youth until you're fourteen, an apprentice until you're 21 and then you're expected to be about your adult work. Including motherhood."

"At least there's that." Andi said.

"Any chance you could be pregnant?" The registrar asked.

Tally's cheeks turned pink. "I could be. I don't know if I am though."

"All right."

"So your students are between the ages of seven and fourteen?" Emily asked. She was trying not to think of the possibility of being pregnant.

"Yes, that's right." Tally replied.

"Are you married?" The registrar asked.

Tally, so open and friendly a moment ago, pulled back as if stung. "It's all right." Emily said. "Couples can be together now. We just want to make sure we keep you two together if you want."

Tally looked at the registrar, and then up at Emily, before looking out at the others in the room. "Excuse me." She said, before she got up and headed in to the crowd.

"Now what is that all about?" Andi wondered.

Emily tracked Tally as she made her way through until she found Housekeeper. A hug was exchanged, and then a conversation, one with some looks back at the table. After a moment Tally made her way back to them. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you understand that I had to be certain."

"Of course," Emily said. "I assume that if the overseers found out you were married you'd be punished."

"And then split up, one of you sold off. You can't be too careful." Tally turned to the registrar. "Yes, I am married."

"And the other party's number?"

"9544."

The registrar typed it in, and then stopped. "9544?"

"Yes."

"You sure about that?"

Tally gave her a quizzical look. "I know who my husband is."

"What's wrong?" Emily asked. She stepped around to check the screen

 _Number: 9544  
Last name: Reid  
First name: Spencer  
Note: FBI_

"Oh boy."

"We're going to need a DNA sample and to check to see if you are pregnant." The registrar said. "Right this way."

Andi looked over her shoulder. "Don't take this wrong, but I'm glad it's not my unit."

"Thanks." Emily replied as she pulled out her phone.

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

Now Hotch had to get involved. But Morgan stopped him, indicated that he should keep some distance. "Reid." He said. "They found the school teacher." He watched his friend collapse further within himself.

"She said you two are married." Hotch said.

"We are." Spencer said after a long pause. "I'm going to make it legal as soon as I can. I knew her, I've known her for years, I loved her since I met her we were just too young..."

"Reid you couldn't have known her for years." Morgan said. "You haven't been gone that long."

But Hotch was looking at that file. "Her parents are professors at CalTech." He said. "Is that when you knew her?"

But Spencer had covered his face. There were too many questions, they could see his walls crumbling, all the things you can live with if you just don't think about them were pouring out. "They made me _hurt_ her." He said. "She was _screaming_. Why are you even still talking to me? Why aren't you _arresting_ me? How is it that she can even still _look_ at me?"

"Spencer." Hotch said gently. "Start at the beginning. What happened the night you and Seaver were taken?"


	12. Chapter 12

_**Part 2**_

 _The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths._

 _Elisabeth Kubler-Ross_

* * *

 _._

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Victory Baptist Church  
Theresa, NY**

 **January 2011**

Spencer hated winter.

Winter in Upstate New York meant cold. Cold days and colder nights and snow banks plied up against buildings and roads. Because it was cold it also meant heaters, in hotel rooms and police stations and most of all in automobiles. And heaters meant dry air that sucked the moisture out of hair and skin and sinuses and eyeballs. And that last meant that he'd switched to his glasses for this trip. His contacts were driving him batty.

"I've never been so glad to have 20/20 vision." Ashley said.

She was driving while Spencer sat in the passenger seat and put in eye drops to help combat the dryness. "I always wondered what that would be like." He replied.

"Less fuss if nothing else. Okay, here we are." She looked at the building in front of them and then checked her rear view. "That car behind us is turning around. Guess they weren't following us."

"See." There was no reason for anyone to be following them out here, but Ashley's fresh academy training had made her misread the behavior of the driver behind them. He put his glasses back on and peered out at the building in front of them. "Why did they even bother with a steeple?" He wondered.

"Not every church can be a cathedral." She said.

"No, but a simple white clapboard country church has grace. This is an airplane hangar." They got out and walked around the back of the church, where it looked like people were loading things into a semi. "Excuse me." He called out as he pulled out his badge. "We're looking for William Maesden..."

"Gun!" Ashley called out.

It was an automatic reaction to go for his. But just as he cleared his holster something heavy landed on him from behind. It was a brief fight, but there were more of them than they had seen and they were pretty much all bigger. Neither he nor Ashley had a chance.

They ended up on their knees, their hands cuffed behind their backs, large men pushing down on their necks and shoulders to make them stay. Spencer looked up at this mountain of a man examining their badges. "What do you think we should do with them JD?" Someone asked.

The man looked from their badges to their new prisoners. "Take them with us." He said. "The Lord must have sent them this way for a reason. And I won't complain if my Master buys her. Get them in the truck."

After that it was the simple efficiency of an old-fashioned kidnapping. They were gagged, hooded, bound and tossed into the back of the semi. They drove for a while, were transferred, drove again, were transferred again, and then they felt the distinct motion of a boat.

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"How many of them were there?" Hotch asked.

"Ten." Spencer replied. "They were moving two Elder's families to the island. The people had already gone, they were moving the household goods. Ashley and I surprised them."

"All right. What happened when you got to the island?"

"An auction."

* * *

 **The Castle  
Grindstone Island  
In the St. Lawrence River**

 **January 2011**

They were carried off the boat much the way they had been carried on it, one man at shoulders, one at ankles, swinging like sacks of grain. It was bitterly cold, but they weren't in it for long. Spencer felt them moved indoors, into warm spaces that smelled of leather and polish, of wealth, until they were taken into another room, this one cooler, and placed on the floor.

There was some kerfuffle as they tried to get his cuffs off and his scarf, coat and jacket were getting in the way. "Fuck it." The man leaning over him said, and once his wrists were free he felt them grab everything at his collar and pull back, pulling off all of it in one move. By the time he recovered from that the cuffs were back around his wrists and they were being attached to something hanging over head. Thankfully they freed his ankles before they hauled him up by the arms. He ended up standing there, his arms stretched high. Then they pulled the bag from his head and the gag from his mouth.

"We are Federal Agents!" Ashley said as soon as her mouth was free. "Do you have any idea..."

She didn't get to finish that thought. One of the men stepped up and backhanded her full force across the face. Spencer opened his mouth to say something when one of the men behind him reached around and clamped a hand the size of a dinner place around his jaw, painfully locking it in place. "We got six rules in this place. The first rule around here is no speaking to your betters until you're spoken to." The huge one they called JD said. "If you do I'll personally whip the hide off you pigs. Now, do we understand that?"

The pressure on Spencer's jaw lessened. This was some kind of killer pack, men who felt isolated and alienated from society and took their anger and resentment out on their victims. Speaking to them from the higher power position of law enforcement would only increase their anger, as would attempting to address them as equals. Only by supporting their belief in themselves as the superiors here could they get through this with little violence, and hopefully get to a point where they could find a way out of here. Which meant only one answer was the right choice. Hopefully Ashley would follow his lead. "Yes, Sir." Spencer said.

"Yes, Sir." Ashley repeated.

"Good." JD smiled. "Now, rule two is that you don't look your superiors in the eye." Spencer felt a hand on the back of his head pushing down until he was looking at JD's worn work boots. "That is a right reserved for persons and since you are not persons under the law of God you don't have the right. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. The third rule is that only persons have names. You are not persons so from now on you will have numbers." Spencer felt something cold pull around his neck. Then something was pressed against the back of his neck and someone threaded a fist in his hair to hold him still. He smelled the hot reek of welded metal. "If we hear you using names we'll have to spend some quality time reminding you that you are less than human." He looked Ashley over with a leer. "Which I would not complain about. At all. You are number 9543." He said to Ashley. "And you are number 9544." He said with a look at Spencer. "Now who are you again?"

Dehumanization. That and that these Unsubs weren't hiding their faces was not a good sign. "I am 9544, Sir." Spencer said.

"I am 9543, Sir."

"Very good. You two pigs learn quick. The fourth rule is that you do not fight. You two pigs may think you got moves but there are ten of us for each of you and we all carry. We've got tazers and nightsticks besides, and we've got no reason not to use them. Ain't no one every going to find you out here, you or your body. Understood?"

"Yes Sir"

"Yes Sir."

"The fifth rule is simple, we tell you to do something and you do it. Period. No debating, no fooling around, no nothing. First time obedience. You got that?"

"Yes Sir"

"Yes Sir."

"The sixth rule is that the Master's word is law. What they say goes, like the word of God coming down from heaven. And we are the cops who enforce that law. I don't have to explain to you two what that means, do I?"

"No, Sir."

"No, Sir."

JD nodded, satisfied. "All right. All right, let's show the Masters what they've got." He pulled a large knife from his pocket and walked up to Ashley with a smile. He took her by the collar and pressed the knife to her throat, causing her to hiss and pull back in surprise. But he didn't cut her, instead he turned the knife and drew it through her clothing like butter.

All of her clothing. Including her underwear.

When her top came open and her breasts fell free Spencer snapped his eyes away and kept them there. He heard the men's murmurs of pleasure as her clothing was peeled off and he felt the waves of rage coming off the young agent. Don't fight, he thought at her, don't fight. Pacify the Unsubs, don't antagonize them.

Then he felt hands grab the back of his collar and he had to fight down his own whimper. They were highly efficient and their knives extremely sharp. Five strokes, down his back, up each arm, down each leg, and he was peeled like you'd peel a banana, leaving him naked in the cool of the room. He fought back the sudden sense memory of a hot Las Vegas afternoon on a football field and the reek of burning fish livers and focused on the here and now as best he could.

Thankfully they barely spared a glance for his naked body. Their attention was focused on Ashley. Another reason to be thankful, they seemed to be standing back, not actually moving to touch her in any way. "Oh, I do hope you end up at my farm." JD murmured, looking over every inch of her body. "All right, I'll go tell the gentlemen we're ready."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The Castle  
Grindstone Island  
In the St. Lawrence River**

 **January 2011**

A moment after JD stepped out new voices were heard. "I still think this was a mistake." An older man said.

"Perhaps, but we've never had a breach of security." Another replied. "What's done is done."

Spencer kept his head down but glanced up. There were a handful of older men coming in, Caucasian, sixties or later, anywhere from grey to bald, with tailored suits that put Rossi's wardrobe to shame. They had the air of confidence that also spoke to money and power and lots and lots of both. "Well I won't have them on my farm." The first one said.

"Good." Another said. "One less bidder. Good lord." He said, stopping directly in front of Ashley. "Look at that filly!"

"I know." Another said as the others murmured their agreement. "That was a good find there, well done JD."

So JD was not an alpha in this killing gang, he was a lieutenant, and a high ranked one. That made him dangerous, he still didn't have the power he thought was his due but he also needed to impress the alphas with his obedience. He'd need to take out that dissonance somewhere. For now he gave a smile and nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

"I tell you I would not mind having that on my farm." The first man said. "She'd make a lovely housemaid."

"Yeah." Another said with a laugh. "Until your wife saw her."

"She'd have to see her first."

"He screwed up with this one though." One of the men lifted his glass in Spencer's direction. "What the hell are we supposed to do with that?"

"Are you kidding?" Another of the group, this one shorter with a find build, was looking over a computer tablet. He hadn't looked over at Spencer once. "Have you seen his file? Doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering, all from CalTech, degrees in philosophy, sociology and psychology from Georgetown, written a raft of academic papers on I don't even know how many subjects, IQ of 187, and that's just what we could find with a quick internet search...dear god he's magnificent!"

Another man looked skeptical. "And you want that in your stable? Do you have any idea how much trouble he could cause?"

"Of course I want that! He's the answer to a literal prayer, and just in time!" Now he gave Spencer a cursory look over. "Good bone structure too. JD _you_ are a genius! How many credits do I have on the books?"

JD smiled again. "Thank you, Sir. At least thirty thousand."

"Good. I open on the male for fifteen thousand."

The other men laughed at him. "And close on him as well." One said. "Don, you are insane."

"Any other bids?" A man who had been in the back asked quietly. The other laughed and shook their heads. "Sold to Parson for 15,000 credits." Spencer watched JD walk around behind him, and tensed, only to feel something clip on to the chain around his neck.

One of the other men spoke up. "Now that Don's bought his folly I open bid on this filly here at two thousand."

"I see your bid and bid three thousand..."

The bidding went on for a few, but in the end the one who spoke first topped everyone. "Sold to Wilcox." The man in the back said. "For 12,000 credits."

Sold. Spencer swallowed twice as it hit him. They were playing some kind of slavery game here, and he and Ashley had just become the slaves. And worse, it sounded like they were going to different people. He dared to look over at Ashley and saw the fear in her eyes.

"All right, pack them up." The one who bought Spencer, Parson, said to JD. "He's going to be the new schoolmaster. Don't assign him yet, I have a plan for that."

"Yes, Sir." JD looked Ashley over, regretfully.

"Tell Housekeeper I want her on the house staff somewhere." Wilcox was saying to another of the lieutenants. "And assign her right away, the sooner we get everything planted up the better."

"Yes, Sir."

"Come on boys." One of the other men said, and most of the lieutenants followed them out. The one under Wilcox went off somewhere, and Spencer felt the pull on his arms slacken. That one came and let them out of their cuffs before JD threw bundles of cloth at them. "Get dressed. Put on all of it, it's cold out there." Then the two of them stepped out, and Spencer heard the door lock behind them.

"Filly!" Ashley hissed. "Filly!"

"I've heard worse insults." Spencer quickly unrolled the bundle, and thankfully found long underwear. He turned away and started getting in to them, he wanted to cover up as quickly as possible.

"So what do we do?" Ashley asked.

"Pacify the Unsub. They think we're slaves, keep your head down and act as obedient as you can without causing harm to yourself or others. Keep your eyes open for a way to escape or to contact the Bureau. I think we're being split up; we should try to find each other as quickly as possible. Remember, a profile is your greatest weapon."

"Right." She was quiet a moment. "What are my chances of being raped tonight?" Spencer didn't answer; he didn't want to think of the answer. "That good, huh?"

She sounded so nervous. Not that he blamed her. "I hate to say it but the best answer I have right now is to try to mentally prepare for it. You might be able to avoid some tissue damage that way."

"Great."

Long underwear, thick socks, rough canvas shirt and pants, knit hat, mittens, sweater...Spencer retrieved his jacket, coat and scarf, it was cold out there. He turned to Ashley and saw the fear in her eyes. "I want to say I'll protect you." He said, "But I..."

"I know." She looked smaller somehow, draped in loose dresses of some kind. "I just..." She looked at him for a long moment, then came over and hugged him tight. "Thank you Dr. Reid, for everything you taught me."

He held her close, not knowing when or if he'd ever see a friend again. Or hear his name. "Spencer...Ashley. And...thank you."

"Spencer."

They heard the door lock and jumped away just in time. JD came back with some other men, all bundled against the cold. "Come on people, let's go."

They were shooed out what had to be a back door to two utility trucks and made to sit on the cargo beds. When they got underway the wind was like a knife, it cut right through Spencer's clothing and brought tears to his eyes. Thankfully they didn't go far before they pulled up to a tall chain link fence. There was no way he was getting over that, not with his knee, but he caught Ashley's eye and she nodded. She could make it over. From there she could find a boat and go for help.

That thought lasted until they were through the gate. It operated on a lock code and came with a cattle guard in the road. As soon as they crossed the cattle guard they stopped. "Get over here." JD said, motioning for Spencer and Ashley to get down and stand in the road, their backs to the gate. "Now I'm sure you pigs are looking at the fences around here and thinking you can get over them, no problem. Unfortunately for you these gates run on what they call biometrics." He walked over to the podium, entered a code Spencer couldn't see, and then his fingerprint. But the gate didn't close. "This here's what happens if you don't open it right." He gave a nod to the other men. Then one of them gave Spencer a firm push, sending him sprawling over the cattle guard.

The world exploded.

Pain like he'd never felt before exploded over him. He couldn't see, couldn't think, for a moment he couldn't breathe. He felt his arms and legs jerking and scrabbling at the ice under him as he tried desperately to get away from the pain only he had no control over them at all. Dimly he heard Ashley screaming and past that laughter.

A moment later he felt them pull his useless body over the cattle guard, and the pain stopped. He lay there and just focused on breathing. JD loomed over him. "Try to cross a fence line without shutting it down and it'll activate the shock collar." He said. "Those are welded on."

Escape just got a lot harder.

"Get up." With a few not too gentle kicks the men got Spencer and Ashley back to their feet and back into the trucks. They set off up and around the hill, down narrow roads between fences. As they came around one hill the road broke into a Y, and Ashley's truck took the other arm.

He watched her as she watched him, as she went up the hill and he went through another gate, until he couldn't see her anymore.

"Welcome home, boy." JD said as the gate closed behind them.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

They drove up the road, around this giant house, and then down the hill behind it and around to a gated courtyard, the buildings around all lit up and warm with candles and firelight in the snow. This was not a small group, Spencer realized, there were lots of people here. Even as they pulled up to one building which seemed quite full word was being passed, and someone came out to meet them. "Hey Foreman." JD said. "Got you a new schoolteacher. Set him up, get him started in the morning."

"Yes sir! Very good sir!" The man who came out said as he bowed repeatedly. "I will see it done sir."

"Very good." JD nodded and drove away.

Spencer didn't dare quite fully look up just yet. A foreman was a leader, and he didn't know how that fell in the social structure here. But as soon as JD's truck passed through the man stood up straight and squared his shoulders. "You don't need to look down to me, kid." The man said, a stronger note and ample confidence in his voice. "I'm a slave here, just like you, not one of those capullos. Call me Foreman." A wide, callused hand was stuck under Spencer's nose.

Uncle Tom Syndrome, Spencer thought, a coping skill where individuals use passivity and submissiveness when confronted with a threat, leading to subservient behavior and appeasement, while concealing their true thoughts and feelings. During the antebellum slavery era blacks used passivity and servility to minimize retaliation and maximize own survival while maintaining their integrity and self-respect. Hopefully they were maintaining their integrity and self-respect here. "Foreman." Spencer looked up and found himself meeting a middle-aged Latino man with a thick beard, grizzled and worn, but big with strength and seemingly happy. He accepted the handshake offered. "Nice to meet you, I'm..."

"Ah ah. No names. We use them rarely here. You are Teacher. Welcome to Parson Farm. Hungry?" He was already turning to lead Spencer back into one of the rooms. It was a large dining hall, crude and rough, candle lit and warmed by a big stove in the corner. There were roughly sixty men and boys sitting around the hall, some playing games, some laughing or talking. "Hey everyone!" Foreman jerked his thumb back at Spencer. "New schoolteacher, everyone look out for him until he learns the ropes around here." Everyone was looking at him curiously, but there was a generally murmur of welcome and no negativity he could sense. He waved a greeting at them all before Foreman showed him where to hang his coats and led him to the far wall. Almost immediately a small flock of boys showed up around him. "Hey, you kids have all day tomorrow to pester him. We have to talk now. Go back to your tables. Go on. Shoo." They went, but not without many curious looks.

Foreman led Spencer to the back wall where he knocked above a square hole with a ledge. "Two servings and a jug of tea for two, please and thank you." He said to the hole. Moments later plates and bowls were passed out, and a jug and two cups and whatever else was needed. Foreman handed him some of it to carry, took the rest, and led him to a table for four in the corner.

As Spencer watched Foreman settle into a chair worn for his body he realized that this table was likely his office, and the others would not try to listen here. "Are those going to be my students?" He asked, nodding at the boys who were still looking over, curious.

"Yeah. There are eight boys in the father's house right now. Parson likes his people educated, god only knows why. So, what farm did you come from?"

"I didn't." He didn't know if this would have any meaning or not. He stuck his spoon into the bean soup that, along with some brown bread and butter, looked to be his supper. "I'm, um, an FBI agent."

This did have meaning. Foreman sat back, this news shocking him. "Are you serious?" Spencer nodded. "Has the world out there gone loco or something?"

"My team actually hunts serial killers. We were investigating a string of murders when my partner and I went to interview this pastor who might have known some of the victims. We found JD and his friends loading up a truck. They jumped us and brought us here."

Foreman nodded. "I heard through the grapevine that some new Elders were moving to the island. Yeah, we're on an island. You must have walked in to moving day. A couple of Feds, Jesus."

"Elders?"

"Free men, but without enough cash to set up a big house like the Masters. They like having like minded people around. They're the middle class out here."

"How long have you been out here?"

"I'm one of the oldest. Most of these vatos were brought here as children, or were born here. Me, I was fifteen when I was sold to Parson. I'm from LA. I was in foster care back in the day. Never met my father, Mama got deported." Foreman set down his spoon and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a crown bracketed by ornate letters. "I also ran with the PLK."

"Pasadena Latin Kings." Spencer had seen their graffiti back in his CalTech days.

"Someone, either my foster family or my social worker or somebody, decided I needed to be out of the city and in a clean, Christian environment in the country to save me from the evil gangs. I've been here ever since."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." He'd poured two mugs from the earthenware jug, now he passed one over. Chamomile tea, Spencer realized, with a bit of honey.

"So what do we do out here?"

" _You_ teach the little ones to read and write and do math. _We_ do farm work, keep the place up, that sort of thing. It's like an old-fashioned plantation out here and us poor folk are the niggers. Slavery based on class not race, everyone not born here came from the ghetto, barrio, white trash trailer park. Hell, you're only the second college boy slave I've seen, the first was the former school teacher. He was a student at UCLA, Parson brought him here twenty years ago."

"What happened to him?"

"He started acting like he had what my foster mom called sugar in his blood. Died about three years back."

"Diabetes." Odds were medical care was as crude as the rest of this place. If his math was right the former teacher would have been in his forties, about right for an untreated case. "Has anyone ever tried to escape this place?"

"Only about a dozen times or so. You can't get past those fences without the code. If you manage that somehow, harvest maybe when everything's more open, they're no boats, they keep them on the mainland and call for one when they want to go. And if the Overseers catch you they take you off to their place for a few days, treat you like an animal. Do things no man should have done to, you know what I mean?"

Spencer swallowed and nodded. "What about a way to communicate with the outside world?"

"Ain't none of us got a reason to. This is home for most of these vatos. But now that you're here?" Foreman thought about it and nodded. "I'll say something to Housekeeper; see if the maids can find a phone or something up at the big house."

"She?" Spencer looked around the room full of men. "There are women here?"

"Yeah." Foreman jerked his thumb at the wall the food came from. "Over there. About as many as we have men here. You'll see them at work sometimes, other times, but we're not supposed to socialize. Live apart, you know."

Likely to control sexuality. Spencer nodded. "So what happens now?"

"Now you finish your dinner and I show you where to sleep."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

As Spencer finished his supper Foreman sat back and looked around the room, opening his 'office' to the other men. One joined them, called Smitty, who was the second-in-command around here. Some others came around, mostly questions about work that needed to be done. At one point Spencer helped with an engineering problem that had clearly been an issue for a while. After Foreman and Smitty nodded. "That's your chair now." Foreman said. "It's good to have an educated man around."

Spencer blinked. "Thank you." It was a gesture of respect, and not one he had expected.

Just then a gonging sound came from behind the wall. The men started getting up, taking plates to the hole, gathering their meager belongings. "They're closing up the kitchen for the night." Foreman said.

Spencer followed along, depositing his dishes and gathering his coat. The walkways were covered against the snow, but it was still freezing out. Foreman led him to a storeroom where he was issued an armful of clothing and other items, before he was led to a bunkhouse. But before they went in Foreman stopped him. "Did Parson say anything about being assigned?"

"He's going to be the new schoolmaster. Don't assign him yet, I have a plan for that." Spencer recited. "Eidetic memory. I remember everything I hear and read. Perfectly."

"Perfectly?" Foreman asked.

"Accepted as fact by the US court system."

"Damn."

"Does that mean something other than assigned to a job, or a place to sleep or..."

"It does. But we don't talk about it. Ever. To anyone. You got any questions you ask me, away from the others, got it?" Spencer nodded so Foreman went on. "You let the men who are assigned go first in the washroom. When they go we take a turn." He led Spencer in to a neat but crowded bunk house and pointed him to the bottom bunk at the far end, by the door to the remarkably clean toilet room. "Teacher's bunk." He said. "That man had to go more than anyone I ever met. Got up three times a night."

"It's a symptom of Diabetes." Spencer replied. Foreman showed him where to put his clothes, his towels and soap, the knapsack they'd given him, the hooks for his coats, and so on.

"Tomorrow I'll get you some snowshoes." Foreman said.

Spencer blinked at him. "Umm..."

"What?"

"I'm from Las Vegas."

Foreman looked at him a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Hope you learn quick, Teacher."

The room sort of settled. People started getting ready for bed, cleaning and straightening and mending things for the next work day. As Foreman checked in with the men Smitty explained to him how meals worked, and the laundry, and getting what you needed and such. Spencer noted the men who went in to the wash room, who came out looking damp around the edges, but had re-dressed. There was an honest-to-god piano in the corner, which turned out to be somewhat out of tune when one of the men sat at it. But he played and sang a song anyway, something Spencer had never heard before, soft and lulling and slightly melancholy.

Then JD came to the door. "Okay, line it up." He started calling out numbers. The piano player kept going as the men called lined up, their faces so lively a little while ago gone to blank masks. Spencer watched, curious, as they followed JD out. He turned to Foreman with a question on his face.

"You don't need to know right now." Foreman said. "Washroom's free. Get ready for bed."

So those men were assigned. Interesting. They were all young and strong, he noted, otherwise they seemed to have nothing in common. As they moved out of earshot the piano player finished his song, and left the instrument.

Spencer followed Smitty into the washroom. It wasn't much, the water came from hoses and wasn't what you would call warm. But there was a bit of privacy, he was able to clean up, and change into clean, warm things and his bed was neat and while not comfortable it would do. There was no good place for his glasses though. He ended up tucking them behind his pillow.

Pretty soon all the candles were put out, except for the one in the toilet room and the one by the door where Foreman was waiting. After a time the men who had gone came back. Foreman checked in with all of them as they went. Most seemed quiet, but one pushed past everyone and ran for the toilet room. Smitty got out of bed and followed him, and Spencer heard the sound of retching. And Foreman seemed to be talking to one in the corner that was crying. Whatever it was, they helped the younger men through it.

 _What did they do to them?_ Spencer wondered. _What are they going to do to me?_

And then they put out the lights.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

The next morning they woke to the roosters crowing, well before dawn.

Foreman led him back to the dining hall, to a breakfast of some kind of oatmeal and stewed apples. "Is there any coffee?" Spencer asked.

Foreman looked at him. "How much did you...wait, what am I saying? You're a cop." He knocked on the door and asked them to make up a jug of morning water with honey, please and thank you. "Barley, chicory, ginger and mint. It's about the most stimulating thing we've got around here."

"Great." All this and he was decaffeinating too.

After breakfast he was taken out to the courtyard and given a crash course in snowshoeing. He only fell four times before he had the hang of it, more or less. Necessity was the mother of fast learning. "You okay?" Foreman asked as he got up the fourth time.

"Yeah. I have a bad knee. With this weather it might be a problem." Spencer tried to rub the bone deep ache out of it."

"At your age?"

"I got shot a couple of years ago. I got between a victim and an Unsub. A suspect."

"Deliberately?"

"Yeah."

Foreman chuckled. "Bad ass. Okay, the schoolhouse is a mile that way, head straight for the sun."

"A mile?" He was already exhausted, they had to be kidding.

"It was originally going to be us and another farm sharing the building, but they pulled out of it." Foreman replied. He handed Spencer a basket to go with his empty knapsack. "There's your lunch, your jug and your lantern. The well out there is good, no need to worry about that. You might as well head out, the kids will be along after they finish morning chores." He grinned. "Have a good one."

"Thanks." The other men turned back to their work, leaving Spencer nothing to do but head out. He was reassured that if he did fall and get stuck odds were the children would find him before he froze to death. Maybe.

He clambered on as the sun slowly started to glow above the horizon. He had to admit one thing, it was beautiful here. All around him was nothing but white, rolling hills of white, trees white with snow and frost, a creek through the woods frozen so white it looked blue. And it all seemed to gently glow in the oncoming dawn, a soft, delicate halo over the world. And it was completely silent, a silence broken only by the faint sounds of nature. It took his breath away.

Finally Spencer crested the hill and saw the schoolhouse in the distance. It was red, of course, warm and cheerful against all that white. Some of the windows glowed with an amber light, and smoke was curling from one of the chimneys.

That was the moment that it hit him. He had been captured by an Unsub. He was at the mercy of he didn't know how many psychopaths, all of whom considered him a slave. He was in mortal danger and he had no way of calling for help. He had no way of reaching the team, no backup, no authority, no way of defending himself at all. And yet here he was in this utterly peaceful place, and just ahead was warmth and familiar sanctuary that was calling to him to come home. The dissonance between fear and peace drew a broken sound from his throat.

Then he started walking that way. No need to freeze out here.

He climbed the steps to the side that was lit up, left his snowshoes in the foyer with the pair already there, and pushed in to the most amazing space he had ever seen. The walls were made of a light, soft wood which glowed golden in the light of the candle lamps that seemed to be everywhere. Up in the front was a very traditional blackboard. In the middle were tables and chairs set out, and a round rug by the crackling stove with chairs and pillows around. In between the windows were storage cubbies which held a rainbow of soft colors of crafting supplies and school supplies and lots of books. It was so warm and so homey and so safe he just wanted to sink on the rug and stay there until the team found him.

And then someone ran into him from behind.

As he recovered the someone pushed past him. He watched a small figure that seemed nothing more than a bundle of soft colored rags go over to the stove, climb up two steps to reach the top, and set some kind of pot there. Then it climbed down, turned and studied him. Twelve, he thought, maybe as young as ten. "Um, is your, um, teacher here?"

The figure mumbled something at him.

"Um, I'm sorry?"

It started to mumble something again, then shook itself and started unwrapping. Layers of what turned out to be shawls and scarves and cloaks came off until a face finally started peeking through. "I'm the teacher." It said.

 _She_ said.

As he watched the figure of a girl started to emerge. He caught sight of red cheeks and pale ivory skin before she turned, gathered it all up, and headed back to the foyer. "How old are you?" He asked without thinking.

"Twenty." The girl called back from where he saw her shadowy form putting things on hooks. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"I know you haven't been to university..."

"Actually I have."

"Oh." She came back and looked him over then. "In that case I'm your apprentice." He might have considered that, except that when he actually saw her his world stopped. It wasn't the ivory pale skin or the warm pink of her cheeks, or the figure that was a grown woman's at half-scale, or that she was the first woman other than Seaver he had seen here. It was her face.

He _knew_ her face.

She was so much older, on the other side of puberty, but _he knew her face_.

"I'm 2711." She said with that achingly familiar smile. "Call me Teacher. I know I'm not really old enough but I've been at it for three years and I'd rather not confuse the children. We should go get your fire started." With that she headed to the other end of the room and through a door there.

He looked after her, breathed her name into the still of the room, and went after her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

The other room was cold and plain. Wooden desks were laid out in two straight rows facing the blackboard. There wasn't the color of the other room, the softness. But around the room were shelves and shelves of books. That helped. That _always_ helped.

Spencer put his basket on the desk at the front of the room and followed her to the big, potbellied stove, where she was laying a fire. It was her. It had to be her. But Foreman's warnings were ringing in his ears. "Um...um...can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She was doing something that looked to involve kindling.

"Why don't people use names here?"

She sat back on her heels and looked at him. "You really are new here, aren't you?"

"I am, yes."

"You're not supposed to have a name. According to the overseers only humans have names, and since we aren't of the elect we're not human enough for that."

"So you just don't have names at all?"

"Noooo. But if you're going to share your name with someone you have to be able to trust them completely. They can only use it in private. Hearing someone say your name is, um..." Her head was turned to build the fire, but he could see her cheeks turning pink. "...rather intimate, really." When she turned back her cheeks were still pink. But that look was appraising and there was a bit of challenge and daring in her eyes. "We did just meet after all."

"Ahhh..." That look was entirely unexpected. "Right. Of course. Teacher." She smiled and turned back to the fire. "Can I ask...do you remember your name? Assuming you had one, once."

"I did. I wasn't born here. But no, I don't remember it. Everyone called me One-one before I became the Teacher. Do you remember yours?"

"I do. Um, do you remember anything about where you lived before here?"

She gave him a quizzical look as she sat back on her heels again. "Not really." She said, and his heart sagged. "I came when I was very young, only just enough to be taken from my mother. Maybe seven or eight. Candle."

Damn it. She likely wouldn't remember him. "I'm sorry?"

"Your candle. They did send a candle?" He looked in his basket and fished out a metal lantern that was quite warm. She opened it up and took out the lit stub of a candle thrusting it into the pile of kindling in the fire. "You have to do this every Monday, the fire dies over Sunday. There is one thing..."

"Good to know. What's that?"

"Every year I...oh, it's silly."

"It's all right, I won't laugh."

"Well, ever since I was a small girl, every harvest I have this thing...I have to drop a pumpkin."

"Drop...a pumpkin?"

"Yes. To see what it will do."

"To see what it will do?"

"Yes. They squish, of course. Splatter into a wet mess. It's always a little heartbreaking."

"Why?"

"I...I know this makes no sense whatsoever."

"No, it's all right."

"Where I'm from...I remember...pumpkins shatter into sharp, hard pieces, like glass. I remember them shattering in bits at my feet." She watched as the fire caught and closed the stove door. "For years I had a temper tantrum every year when they didn't. I used to swear a magician would come and find me and take me back to where the pumpkins were made of glass." She sighed a little. "Come on. We need to get set up for the day."

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"Pumpkins that break like glass?" Hotch asked.

"Every Halloween Dabney House conducts the Millikan pumpkin-drop experiment from the top of Millikan Library, the highest point on the CalTech campus." Spencer said. "According to tradition, a claim was once made that the shattering of a pumpkin frozen in liquid nitrogen and dropped from a sufficient height would produce a triboluminescent spark. Everyone turns out to watch, and the pumpkins really do shatter like glass when they land. We went to watch it about a week before she disappeared. That was how I confirmed it was Tally."

"And I'm guessing you're the magician." Morgan said.

"Her mother, Professor Jensen was my undergraduate academic advisor. I was completely at sea when I went off to college. I mean academically it was great, but I was a thirteen year old kid. Her parents kind of took me in, they invited me over for dinner all the time, helped me deal with Mom; they were there when I got the flu..."

"They became a surrogate family." Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. "Tally was home schooled. She was always on campus. She started following me around all the time. It should have been annoying, but...I thought it was because I always wanted a little brother or sister, I had always been the youngest in the room, I thought someone younger who could keep up would be fun. I thought that's what it was; I mean, we were just kids, and then..."

"And then little sister grew up on you." Morgan nodded.

"You never talk about college." Hotch said. "Does that have anything to do with her disappearance?"

"It was like the light went out of everything. It just became mechanical, a means to an end or a way to fill the time. That's when I started looking at the Bureau as a career, I met Gideon when he interviewed me as part of the case, but by the time I got here I realized what the odds were."

"What the odds were?"

"I wanted to be her hero. I was fourteen, she was my little sister, I...I loved her and then one day she was _gone_. Some monster took her away from us to... And, you know, Mom raised me on tales of knights and heroes and I wanted to save her. But I was just this scrawny too smart kid with a sick parent to look after. What could I do? By the time I got to the Bureau seven years later the odds were impossible. I mean, Gideon and I looked at the case file but there was nothing..."

Spencer paused like something was coming to him. "What?" Morgan asked.

"They interviewed Don Parson back then." Spencer replied. "He had an alibi, nothing came of it."

"Why did they interview him?"

"I don't know." Morgan could almost see Spencer flipping through his exact mental copy of the file. "It wasn't in the notes anywhere."

"Keep him talking." Hotch said quietly. He got up to call Garcia.

"So, what happened?" Morgan asked.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

It was her. It _had_ to be her. It was Tally, his little sister. Alive and well and for her small stature all grown up. He stared after her as she got up and went to her room only to come back with a small ladder. She set it up and started writing things on the board. "You always start with the Pledge of Allegiance and the Lord's Prayer." She said. "Have them stand to recite both. Make sure they mind their manners, call you Sir, look down when they speak to you, it's good training for them unfortunately. I'd rather they looked at me but it's best that they not get into the habit. You have a roll sheet but remember that paper costs, so don't actually check it off. They use slates most of the time for that reason. It's usually best to start with Math, but I'll have them start with copybook work today so you have some more time to get settled in. They copy pieces out of the bible, usually. Once I get my girls settled I'll come over and help you out with your first day. Why are you staring?" She asked, turning around.

"Duuuaaahhhh...you look like someone I knew a long time ago." He said.

"Oh." She smiled and shook her head and turned back to the board. "I doubt it was me."

He could tell her. Maybe he should tell her. But he didn't have enough data to know if that was the best thing for her. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Maybe? How could that be?"

He took a deep breath. "Where I'm from pumpkins actually do shatter like glass."

That got her attention. She stopped writing, climbed down from her step ladder and came over to him. "Do they?" He nodded. She studied him for a long moment, and then moved her stepladder to the other side of the board. "The old schoolmaster said he knew about a place where that happened. He said it was almost like another country. He'd never been but he spoke the language although not as well. Not like a native I suppose." She finished what she was writing and stepped back. "He said anyone who came from there would understand as well."

Spencer looked at the board with a smile. She had written a complex series of equations up there, ones that spoke of advanced mathematical knowledge. Whoever had come before him must have been a mathematician. Given her parents he wasn't surprised that Tally picked up math easily. He stepped to the board and finished what she had written with a flourish, and then turned to meet her grin. "I've been there." He said. "We can go a lot further than that." To his surprise she covered her face and he heard sniffling. "What?" he asked. What did he do?

"I've been so lonely!" She said, and she threw herself at him.

She was so small and so light he instinctively picked her up in his arms. "You're not alone anymore."

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"Then what happened?" Morgan asked.

"Then I met my students, all eight of them, and started teaching." Spencer replied. "Math, spelling, English grammar, reading, writing, basic science and US history. She had ten girls and somehow she kept both classes organized. The girls were only supposed to learn basic math and no science or history; they had to learn handicrafts instead, for their future work. But her two oldest came over for lessons; it was a reward if they did their other work quickly and well. I actually enjoy teaching, I never thought I would. And it let me keep an eye on the kids in that environment, make sure they stayed safe."

"Did they?"

"None of them were ever punished in any way while I was there." He smiled a little at a memory. "At one point one of the boys accidentally broke one of the school house windows while they were playing. I said it was my accident and took the punishment for it. I thought it was better an adult take that."

"Is that why you got whipped?"

"Yeah. I didn't realize it would be that bad. I wouldn't have done anything differently though."

"I believe that." Morgan nodded. "You're not changing jobs on me, are you?"

Spencer managed a smile. "No. But if I ever retire from the Bureau I might look into teaching."

"That's all right." Morgan could see an elderly Dr. Reid surrounded by a flock of children. "Did you two have a chance to talk at lunch?"

"Not really. The kids ate indoors; it was too cold for them to go out. We had some time at the end of the day."

* * *

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

It wasn't a bad job, Spencer realized. They left the doors open between the classes, and while he and his boys went over the work they could hear the feminine voices and general good humor coming from the room next door. He was already planning to ask Tally to make his room look more homey and welcoming.

When the end of the day came around Spencer dismissed his students so they could go back to their chores. As he stood at the window and watched them go another stream of children, these bundled in shawls and wraps, left the other door and followed after them.

"What's it like?" Asked that familiar voice from the doorway. "What's it like back home?"

Spencer turned and saw Tally standing there, looking at him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her indigo apron. "Warm." He said. "The people are wonderful. They all know this sort of thing; they come up with new ideas all the time. And they're happy. They laugh and play jokes on each other. I can tell you about it, if you'd like."

"I would like that." She said as she stepped toward him. "I've come to this schoolhouse every day but Sunday for as long as I can remember. This is home now. Teacher, the other teacher, said that a school was the closest we could get to that place here on the farm. So I always thought of this building as home." She smiled a little. "I wish I could sleep here sometimes. It feels safer than back in the bunkhouse."

"Safer?"

"There's something bad here. But no one ever talks about it."

"Ever?" He thought a long moment. "Do the overseers come and take women away at night?"

She nodded. "Housekeeper said I'm too young to know about that yet."

"They take men away too. Foreman said I don't need to know."

She shook a little. "Let's not talk about it. You're supposed to teach me you know." She said as she stepped away. "Technically I'm supposed to be your apprentice, at least for a little while longer."

"I don't know anything about teaching." He said.

"True. But you know how to speak the language from home."

He pretended to consider this. "What do you want to learn?"

The smile she gave him was definitely mischievous, and might even have been a bit wicked. "Teach me everything. But, um..." She looked out the window. "I remember I never saw snow before I came here. It doesn't snow there, does it?"

"No. Well, very little if it does and very rarely. I had to learn to snowshoe this morning."

"We need to get back before they close the gate. Or else."

Or else. "Then we might want to get a head start." Spencer agreed.

He was glad they left when they did. Even with Tally giving him pointers it took most of forever for them to get back. They arrived just as everyone else was filing in as well. JD and his minions were sitting on his SnoCat by the main gate. "Don't look at them." Tally hissed. Then she reached out to steady him as he quickly looked away.

"Looks like College Boy's got a thing or two to learn after all." JD said. The other's laughed the sour chuckle of the bully. "Don't act all high and mighty Princess. May have to take you home, teach you your place." He grabbed at his crotch, but didn't get down. Spencer followed Tally's lead and hurried past them.

"Will you be all right?" He asked quietly when they were past.

"Oh yes, I'll be perfectly safe once I'm in quarters. JD and his men just like to scare people."

"I wish I could be sure of that." Unsubs like that only needed an opening, he knew they were a danger. "Be careful." He pleaded. "Don't give them an excuse."

"I'm always careful. I have to set a good example for the children. You be careful as well." She smiled. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Teacher."

"Good night, Teacher."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"So little sister did grow up on you." Morgan said with a chuckle.

Spencer didn't smile, "Unfortunately."

"What happened?"

"Nothing for a while. Thankfully even though there was a constant threat from JD and the others we managed to avoid actually dealing with them. They just like to verbally harass us when they could. A few nights later I met Housekeeper..."

* * *

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

There was a chain link fence between the two courtyards. Most of the time a wooden gate was pulled in front of it, effectively separating the two. But a couple of nights later before dinner Foreman called Spencer over. The gate had been opened slightly, leaving only the chain link fence in place. And on the other side stood a woman in a white pinafore, imposing for the authority she carried. "What are we looking for?" She asked without preamble.

Foreman just smiled at her. "Housekeeper, this is Teacher, our new schoolmaster." He said. "Teacher, this is Housekeeper, my equal on the other side, so to speak."

"Housekeeper," Spencer said with a polite nod. "I assume you manage the staff up at the main house?"

"Along with all the other women here," she said once she returned that nod. "I'll have you know I don't like this. You're asking us to take on a great deal of risk. It's fifty lashes if we're found with stolen property."

"But they would free us." Foreman said. "We wouldn't be their slaves anymore."

"To what end?" She replied. "There's nothing for us out there. We don't have families or jobs waiting. This is our home. Yours too, unless you think the PLK would take you back."

Foreman looked around and stepped closer. "They'd close the Night Barns!" He whispered.

Housekeeper pulled back as if she'd been stung. She looked around to make sure no one heard, swallowed twice, and smoothed her apron. "What are we looking for?" She asked, much more gently this time. "I'll look myself."

Spencer took a deep breath and started describing a cell phone.

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"They never found one?" Morgan asked.

"They did, three of them. And she managed to get them in and out of the house safely." Spencer replied. "No service."

"Of course. So what happened next?"

"There wasn't anything remarkable until Sunday."

* * *

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **January 2011**

By the time Sunday rolled around Spencer had to admit that while yes, he was homesick, and yes, this place was hell in theory, his own situation was reasonably tolerable. So long as nothing changed he wasn't going to have a problem sitting tight and pacifying the Unsubs until the team got to him, he found a way to contact them, or he found an escape.

His biggest problem had turned out to be an unexpected one. He'd woken up the day after his first day to find a swollen knee that didn't want to hold him. Cold weather plus lots of unusual movement equaled arthritis, simple as that. Thankfully Foreman had thought of that and had presented him with a cane made from a branch of some local tree, twisted and polished nicely. And another of the woodworkers had attached a little shelf to his bed to hold his glasses. "Why?" Spencer asked. "I mean I'm grateful, but they hardly know me."

"You are teaching our children." Foreman explained. "You can't teach an animal to read or write or do math. Every day you make them more human. That is valuable to us. This is a thank you."

He had been so touched by that.

Within a couple of days he had some knee warmers to help, quilted things stuffed with pockets of sawdust he could warm on the stove and tie on. Those came from Tally, bless her. She also produced an indigo waistcoat to add another layer under his jacket. "Housekeeper suggested the color." She admitted. "She said that teachers are valuable, like the midwives who dye their aprons red. We matter so we should stand out a bit. And you look very dashing."

By Sunday morning everyone had turned out in their best. They had all scrubbed down, hair was washed, beards combed and trimmed. Spencer had tried to stop scratching at his, it was not coming in in any sort of an attractive way, but all sharp objects were carefully regulated so shaving was not going to happen. At the appointed time JD and his assistants came to the gate with orders for them all to line up, and then they walked the thankfully short distance to another church that resembled an airplane factory.

People were seated strictly according to rank. If dress was any indication the Masters were in front, Spencer spotted the kind of high end clothing Rossi and Emily wore. After that were the Elders, all of whom seemed to have massive families which all dressed alike. And in the back, behind a short partition, were the slaves, from the ones with any sort of rank in front to the youngest in the back. Men were on the right, women on the left. Spencer found himself seated in the first slave row, between Smitty and Carpenter, one off from Foreman. He dared to look over as everyone was settling and spotted Tally between two women he did not know, one in a white apron and the first of three in red, and one down from Housekeeper. Right.

Spencer spent the next several hours analyzing the sermons the Elders gave. There were elements of the Prosperity Gospel mingled with a bastardized form of Calvinism, ample classism and worship of the Lost Cause of the South, somehow without veering into racism. And of course a healthy dose of extreme conservative politics. In between there were readings and dour hymns. Eventually they were allowed to return.

"It's entertaining." Foreman said out of nowhere once they got back, "All bullshit of course, but entertaining."

"But people seemed excited to go." Spencer replied.

"Only to get it over with. Do you know anything about cooking? Wait, what am I saying? Cop, you lived off take-out." Spencer closed his mouth and nodded, he didn't even have a full kitchen back in DC. "Know how to scrape a carrot?"

"Sure."

This was how Spencer found himself in the kitchen, sitting on a stool at a counter in front of the windows, working on a giant pile of root vegetables. "Sunday is a day of rest." Foreman explained. "The Masters and the Elders do their own cooking, and we cook here, so the women can have a day off."

"They deserve it." Spencer agreed, and settled in to the work.

His position, though, allowed him a ringside seat at the drama unfolding before him. The kitchen was on the women's side of the complex, the windows looked out over their courtyard. From here Spencer could see Tally sitting with some of the other women around a fire pit, quilts draped over their laps as they worked on them. She smiled and waved, but had told him not to come to the gate, whatever that meant. They would speak again in the morning.

He soon saw what she meant, and why. The wooden gate between the two courtyards was rolled back, leaving only the chain link in place. As soon as it was open women crowded at the gate, each holding an infant or small child. As Spencer watched fingers and hands started poking through to touch each little head, clutch small fingers, and caress the hand of a loved one. It took a moment for Spencer to realize what was going on. "Those are their children?" He asked.

"Yes." Foreman replied. "Excuse me; I'm going to go see my grandbaby." Foreman left him there and went to take his turn at the fence.

A few of the men had stayed behind to help prepare food. "I don't understand." He said to one of them

"Me neither." He replied.

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"At one point I got a new student." Spencer said. "He had turned seven a few days before. He had to leave his mother and siblings and come live with someone he'd only ever seen through the fence. And he would never be held by his mother again. I remember he was so scared, and so happy when he saw Tally and the girls because they were familiar faces. He screamed every afternoon for weeks when we had to wave good bye and go back in the courtyard. I had to pick him up and carry him so he wouldn't annoy JD too badly."

"Did the fathers ever see their daughters?"

"Only through the fence. They didn't get to hold their sons until they were Jack's age, didn't get to hold their daughters at all." Spencer shook his head. "I left home at thirteen and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. And I did it knowing that I would be going home in a month. What we're talking about here is the grief Jack had to go through when Haley died. Repeated over and over again. Or imagine JJ having to give Henry up, or Will at this point in Henry's life never having held him. Or your father never knowing your sisters."

Morgan shook his head. "I cannot imagine that. No wonder they were so happy to hear that families were getting together again. But if they're keeping everyone apart like that, how did they make those kids to begin with?" Morgan watched his friend's face crumple. "Spencer, what happened?"

"I married her." Spencer replied.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **September 2011**

Spencer was beginning to wonder if the team would ever find him.

It was hard to think about. His mother would not be doing well at this point. Dr. Norman would do what he could, of course, but her condition would likely deteriorate until she was lost in her delusions. And would Henry even remember him? He loved his godson like crazy, but he might only know him as a story his mother told of a friend from long ago. And the team, how would they be able to pull together now that this had happened?

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to the world he knew and the people who loved him.

And he wanted to take Tally home.

Winter had turned to spring and then summer. Now there was a hint of fall in the air. Nights were noticeably longer now, mornings wanted a sweater. But it was still warm enough to let the kids out at lunch time, to settle under the tree by the creek beside the school with Tally at his side and go over lessons and memories of the world while her needles clicked. JD and the others never came out here, schooling slaves was beneath them, so the children could roam freely, their laughter music on the slight breeze. He settled back against the tree trunk, took a bite of the first tart sweet apple of the season and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"What is Foreman doing all the way out here?" Tally asked.

Spencer opened his eyes and looked. Sure enough Foreman was heading their way with a couple of the men. He got to his feet to meet the older man. "Man, I should have got me an education." Foreman said when he got close enough. "I could be lazy all day too." He gave them both a good-natured grin and Tally a polite nod, "Teacher."

"Foreman," she replied with an easy smile.

"We're here to check over the building before the weather turns." Foreman said, "If we're not going to get in your way."

"Not at all," Spencer replied. "We'll work with the children outside this afternoon; keep them out of the building."

"Sounds good. Go on." He said to the men, as they went off to work. He turned back to Tally. "Hey, Teacher, you're twenty-one this year, yeah?"

"That's right." Tally replied.

"And your birthday is coming up? Around when the pumpkins harvest." Foreman nodded and grinned. "I'll set one aside for you to squish so you can have your tantrum. It's still not going to shatter you know. Pumpkins don't do that."

"Actually they can." Spencer said. "I've seen it happen." Foreman turned and started at him a long moment, like Spencer might be pulling his leg. "Hopefully I'll be able to show you some day."

"I'd like to see that." Foreman said. "I got to go check the roof."

"And I have a history lesson to teach." To teach outside, Spencer thought, made it an even better day.

* * *

Later that night Foreman pulled Spencer aside. "You and Teacher," he said, clearly meaning Tally. "You love her, don't you?"

The question surprised Spencer. "Yes." He answered without hesitation.

"You ever think about marrying her?"

"Yes. Many times." Once upon a time he had dreamed of finding her somehow, taking her home with him and keeping her there. Only now that they were both on the other side of puberty, now that they carried adult hearts in adult bodies, did he realize that he had wanted to marry her and keep her all this time.

"You should then, and soon. Before her birthday."

Huh? "Why before her birthday? Let me guess." Spencer stopped him before he could say it. "We don't talk about that."

"No, we don't." Foreman looked around and pulled him even further aside. "But it starts when you're twenty-one, I'll tell you that. It's easier on the women if they know they have someone there for them, someone who really knows them. And you two are from the same people, yeah? That whole pumpkin breaking thing?"

"Yeah. I...we knew each other, back when we were children. I haven't said anything to her."

"Ahhh. Even better. Yeah, tomorrow you marry her. It would make it easier for both of you."

He would. Spencer would, he knew that, had known that for a while. "What does that mean here though? I mean, it's not like we can live together..."

"The responsibilities of a husband. It means love, of course. Love and loyalty are the only things we have left to give each other, and so you give her those and she does so in return. It means that if there is any chance of taking a punishment for her you do it, and she does for you. It means that you become the father to her children."

"Children?"

"Yeah. Adult women have children. It will be easier for her to endure confinement knowing you're there for her, and good for her to be able to bring her children to meet you. When her boys come over the fence you'll be responsible for them until they apprentice."

"Children." There was no way. Tally was far too small. It had to be the general less than ideal nutrition around here, her father was his height and his mother at least Emily's size if not a bit taller. But it meant that to safely have children she likely needed medical care, a cesarean was a very real possibility. As much as he wanted a family he would not risk it with her in this place. "No. I'll father her children." Or not, once he had a say in the matter.

Foreman nodded. "The most important thing is that you see each other as equals, always. She will know your name, and you hers, that is the symbol of the bond of trust between you. And when she is taken to the barn she will take that knowledge with her."

"When she goes... how do you know they will take her?" To the barn. To wherever they took people at night and they came back traumatized.

"They always take the women once they are old enough. And the men as well."

"They haven't taken me."

Foreman shrugged. "I can only assume they aren't stupid enough to call a Fed. Be glad of that. Come on, time for dinner."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **September 2011**

"Have you ever thought about getting married?" Spencer asked Tally as they walked to school the next morning.

Tally stopped in her tracks and looked up at him a long moment. "Yes, I have." She said before she started walking again, "Since I met you."

Now it was his turn to stop for a moment. She'd already been thinking about it? "Really?" He had to take a few quick steps to catch up with her.

"Of course. For a lot of reasons, but it really all comes down to..." He looked over and saw that she was turning pink on him. "...I love you. Which is impossible to define, I just know I do. The world is better with you in it, that's all. I'd like to be there for you and have you there for me." Her cheeks turned even brighter. "Granted now that I said that I do hope this means you're asking."

He could feel his own face on fire. "I am, actually. But before you say yes there's something you should know. Come here." The tree that stood next to the school was just starting to turn from a soft, delicate green to a cascading fall of gold. He pulled her under it, where the curtain of leaves would conceal them from sight. "You said that when you were young you dropped a pumpkin every year, to see if it would shatter."

She looked like an elf under that tree, the blue of her apron vibrating against the green gold around them. "And you said you know where that place is. We're both from there. You never say much about your place in it though."

"I didn't want to upset you."

"Why would it upset me?"

"Because I haven't been able to find a way off this island." On the Sundays when he hadn't been in the kitchen he'd gone for long walks, looking for something, anything he could use. He'd made his way to the furthest fences, watched as long, modern tankers slowly sailed by the island, and been utterly frustrated at his inability to flag one. And there was no cell service, and Housekeeper had been unable to find a satellite phone and he had not managed to crack the biometric locks and no word at all from Seaver. There was nothing.

"Why would that upset me? No one knows how to leave here."

"You said that when you were little you believed a magician would come and save you." Tally nodded. So Spencer opened his hand, showed her the button there, and then made it disappear.

Her eyes opened wide and she gasped. "Where did it go?" She asked, looking over his hand. "How did you do that?"

"It's in your apron pocket." He said. She fished it out and looked up at him. He sighed. "Magic. We knew each other as children. I was a magician back then. Your mother was my teacher. But I can't get you out of here, love, and I am so sorry."

He watched the expressions crossing her face. Shock at first, which grew and deepened at what he said, and then a blow of disappointment, and the sorrow of loss. Recognition came then, and the realization of what that meant. But as she opened her mouth to say what she was thinking they heard the laughter of children. She looked back in the direction of the school, smoothed her apron and regained her composure. "We'll talk at lunch then?"

"Sure."

* * *

Lunchtime came. Spencer had been distracted all morning. What if the regret and the realization drove her away? What if she hated him for keeping this from her? What if she never wanted to speak to him again?

But none of that happened. Instead she came and sat next to him, her back to the trunk of the tree as the children scattered to eat their lunches. "I remember you." She said. "I remember. I used to chase you all over campus. You kept candy in your bag for me. Gummi worms, never more than my mother would let me have." She smiled, the gentle smile of the woman mixing with the grin of the girl. "My magician."

He remembered her in a paper crown and a beach towel cloak, grandly pronouncing him the royal magician of her court. "I kept them there just for you, you know. I never figured out why you followed me."

"I enjoyed your company. I remember having fits when you were gone and I couldn't see you that day. How dare my magician go and leave me. I was such a spoiled child." She smiled at the memory.

He couldn't help it, he laughed. "I missed you when you were gone." He said. "It was like the light went out of the world. I hadn't realized how much you mattered until you weren't there. I wish I could take you back there."

"I know. But the next best thing a magician could do, I suppose, is get himself trapped here with me so I wouldn't be alone. A girl has to love a magician like that." She looked up into his eyes, something no one there ever did, and the intimacy of it caused something within him to twist and grow. "I still want to marry you."

"Good. Because I still want to marry you. Here and there, when we get there."

"Here and there, when we get there." She agreed.

"What do we do?"

"After school." She looked up at the tree around them, the school warm and inviting and sheltering them from the rest of the farm. "This is the perfect place for it. Here." She picked up his slate and started writing on the back. "These are the vows we take here. Unless you want the ones from there."

He didn't even have to look. He couldn't stop looking at her. "These will work fine."

* * *

Once they shooed the children off to afternoon chores and cleaned up they met back under the tree beside the school. The autumn sun was slanting down toward the horizon, turning the world gold. "We don't need witnesses?" Spencer asked.

"No." Tally replied. "This is between us. Our friends will take us at our word. Witnesses are for legal things, aren't they?"

"Yes. Good point." The people for whom legal would matter wouldn't recognize a slave marriage. No, this was just for them.

"I remember your name, you know. Do you want me to use it?"

"Please." He hadn't realized the longing he would feel, the level of intimacy. He hadn't heard his own name in so long. "I remember yours; do you want me to use it?

"I don't know. I remember that everyone out there knows your name, if we do leave this place will everyone want to use it?"

"Likely. And there's another consideration."

"What's that?"

"In your father's language your name means 'little girl'. I can't think of you as a little girl anymore."

Her smile was brighter than the sun. "Then leave that name for my parents and the world out there. Give me a new name, please, one just for us."

"All right."

She took his hand, climbed a few of the schoolhouse steps so they would be the same height, and turned to face him, looking up into his eyes and perhaps into his heart.

"You cannot possess me  
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give  
You cannot command me  
But I shall serve you in those ways you require

I pledge to you that yours will be the eyes I look for in the morning  
And the face I picture in the night.  
I shall be a shield for your back and trust in you to shield mine  
My children shall be your children  
And I shall honor you above all others  
I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care

This is the marriage of equals.  
This is my wedding vow to you  
And with this vow I trust you to know who I truly am...Spencer."

Hearing his name sent a shiver down his spine and his heart to racing. It was the first time he'd heard it in nearly a year. It really was the most loving, intimate thing he had ever known.

Now it was his turn

"You cannot possess me  
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give  
You cannot command me  
But I shall serve you in those ways you require

I pledge to you that yours will be the eyes I look for in the morning  
And the face I picture in the night.  
I shall be a shield for your back and trust in you to shield mine  
I shall be a father to your children  
And I shall honor you above all others  
I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care

This is the marriage of equals.  
This is my wedding vow to you  
And with this vow I trust you to know who I truly am ..."

He looked at the world around him, the golden of the world and the shelter of this place. He never wanted her to forget this first home they shared.

"...Willow."

Her eyes widened and her smile beamed. "Oh. Oh, that's a lovely name! It's perfect!"

"It suits you." Delicate but strong, he thought, a tree that bends but never breaks. "Now what?"

Now she looped her arms around her shoulders and kissed him.

It wasn't anything like being kissed by Lila. It was gentle, sweet somehow, tender was the best word. But then he felt that spark growing, that dark heat he'd first found in a pool in Los Angeles, and he couldn't help making that kiss deeper. Willow responded and that spark grew and he felt her tremble and knew she felt it too. "I love you, Willow." He murmured when he had to breathe again.

"I love you, Spencer. My magician." For a moment she settled into his arms. "I don't want to go." She admitted. "I want to stay at the schoolhouse tonight."

He looked in her eyes and saw the spark growing there and knew that she didn't mean stay at the schoolhouse, not really. "So do I." But they'd be whipped for it if they did. They were never allowed that much privacy. But someday...

He held her hand until they came in view of the courtyard, and watched as the gate closed behind her.

* * *

.

* * *

 **Note:** OK, I know those vows are modified from ones I found out there somewhere, but now I cannot find them again or remember the original author. Credit to him, wherever he may be.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **October 2011**

Willow's birthday finally came. It didn't seem a birthday without a gift, so Spencer had a surprise waiting for her when they arrived at the schoolhouse. "What is it?" Willow asked as she untied the string.

Spencer smiled. Paper was precious on the island, notebooks more so. But he'd come up with enough, then worked with Carpenter and Tanner to make it up into a neat little book. "I wrote down everything I could remember about home." He said. "All the tales and the legends and all the stories I told you back then. Some poetry and some drawings. Just some things I thought you would enjoy having with you at night."

"Oh! Oh I will! This is wonderful! Thank you!" She grinned and looped her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly.

"So now what happens?" He asked. "How do people celebrate birthdays here?"

"We don't." She replied, "Except for the big ones. At seven boys cross the fence, at fourteen you apprentice to someone and at twenty-one you become an adult. Housekeeper said she would tell me what that meant after dinner."

So there was nothing. No good to balance out what he suspected would be very bad. "Before you go to the barn."

She nodded quietly. "I'm scared." She said quietly. "I admit it."

"I'm here for you." He replied. "I can't go in your place; I would if I could..."

"I know."

"Just keep thinking about school tomorrow, how we'll be back here no matter what. I'll be waiting."

"I'll remember that."

* * *

He told her that again on the way back that evening, to focus on the next day and how he was there and would be waiting and just keep breathing and she would get through it, whatever it was. They delayed as long as they could but eventually they had to part so they could go to their respective dining halls for dinner. As usual he sat with Foreman and Smitty, listened as they took care of whatever business there was, joined in when he thought he knew something that could help. When one of the women in the kitchen rang a pot to signal last call on the dishes they turned in their mugs and headed off to bed. Spencer sat on his and pulled out a book, intending to make a few notes for tomorrow while the men being called out did what they needed to do, while Player settled at the piano and played his soft, sad tune. As happened every night, one of the Overseers came to the door and started calling numbers.

And then it happened. "...9744..." The Overseer called.

Spencer looked up in confusion. Surely they did not mean to call him.

"Qué chingados," Foreman said quietly.

"9744. Move your ass." The overseer said without heat.

Spencer looked over at Foreman, who shrugged and nodded for him to go. "Don't ask questions or argue. " He said quietly. "Just do what they tell you. Do what they tell you."

That last was firm enough to be a direct order. Spencer nodded and went and got in line with the others. His heart was pounding in a way it hadn't since their last case, since the last time there was an Unsub and he held a gun in his hands. He heard the piano then, a soft counter note to the rush of adrenaline in his veins, soothing and distracting and reassuring all at once.

"Come on." The Overseer led the line of men out of the bunkhouse and away from the dining hall, to a door Spencer had wondered about but had never been down. It led to a hallway open at the far end, which led to another walkway. "Against the wall," the Overseer said, and Spencer followed as they all put their backs to it and stayed there.

Then JD arrived. He was carrying a large pharmaceutical bottle. Behind him came his other assistant, carrying water and a cup. JD went down the row, handing each man a pill, which each man swallowed with the help of the water. JD stopped and waited for Spencer to put out his hand, which he did out of curiosity if nothing else. But in the light it was impossible to tell. "Take it." JD said, "Take it or I will ram it down your throat."

Do what they tell you, Foreman said. Spencer took a deep breath and took the pill.

After that they were left to stand there for a while. No one said anything; they stood there with their backs to the wall, each man lost in his own thoughts. Spencer wanted to ask what they were waiting for, but his best analysis was that they were waiting for the pill to work. So he waited to see what would happen

At first he felt himself getting a little queasy. Not much, like a mild bit of motion sickness. Just that little bit, not helped at all by the fear curling in his belly.

Then he noticed that he was getting a little dizzy. Not horribly, but if he turned too fast he suspected the world would spin.

Then he realized that his nose was stuffing up. And he wasn't the only one, most of the men produced handkerchiefs and were wiping and sniffing by then.

By the time he realized that his penis was starting to feel awfully strange JD and the others came back. "Come on, boys."

He followed along the line of men to a building he hadn't seen before. It was low, cinderblock, with a metal roof. The door led into a small unlit foyer that smelled of damp and disinfectant. You turned left as you walked in, and saw the opening on the right up ahead which led to a lit room. "8563..." JD said as his assistant checked a clipboard.

One by one the men were called in to that other room. Spencer waited his turn, but when it came JD called the man behind him. One by one the rest were called until Spencer was the only one left. "9744." JD said. "Come on college boy." Spencer followed his gesture and looked into the room. There was a clear path on the left, on the right were what looked like horse stalls, each man had been placed in one, their heads showing above the partitions. They were each facing the right wall, their minds turned inward, their eyes dead, their faces turned to masks. "Down there in the center." JD pointed to the stall directly under the unshielded electric light, one that left nowhere to hide.

Spencer stepped into the stall and instantly remembered where he was. These were Unsubs. And when dealing with Unsubs anything could happen.

She couldn't reach, he realized. They fastened down her wrists on the far side of that concrete bench. But she was too small to fit all the way over, so her feet did not touch the floor. She must be cold, he thought, that must be her nightgown. With her head covered she can't see me.

JD poked him in the back with his night stick. He turned and found the three of them clustered at the opening to the stall, blocking any hope he had of bolting. "Get going, college boy." JD said. "Unless you can't 'cause you don't like girls." No, Spencer realized, he could. The sounds coming from the other stalls, the grunts and soft cries, and the pheromones growing thicker in the air by the minute and the drug in his system were all working together to make it entirely physically possible, much to his shame. "'Cause if you don't the three of us will have to and you know," JD reached down and fisted the massive bulge in his pants. "She might need the nurses after."

Hotch, he thought, Morgan, Emily. Somebody, anybody. Help.

But there was no help.

There was no magic.

There was no choice.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

 **Parson Farm  
Grindstone Island  
St. Laurence River**

 **October 2011**

When it was all over they were brought back, he went to the bathroom and was noisily sick, then he shucked his clothes and climbed into what passed for a shower, the cold water would only be the beginning of the punishment he deserved. It was there that Foreman found him. "I would have warned you." He said from the door.

"You knew." It was not a question.

"It happens to all of us. We're animals to them. You got to mix up the genes to keep your herd healthy."

Spencer was still trying to process what he had done. He looked down, saw her blood on his skin, and her scream came back to him clear as glass. "I am a Federal Agent." He growled out. "Do you have any idea what they made me do?"

"Yes." Foreman replied. "You kept her from far worse. JD and his boys are fucking sadistic. At least with you she could take her mind away. Yes." He nodded to the question on Spencer's face. "That's why we don't talk about it. Whoever she was she was picturing her husband back there, that it was his baby being planted in her belly. And no one will say anything to suggest otherwise. Ever." Spencer stared as the realization of what had been going on around him sank in. He'd had no idea. "Today was Teacher's birthday, wasn't it?" Foreman asked. Spencer nodded slowly. "We're city men, yes? We understand each other. So you know what it means when I say that when she brings a baby to the fence in the future, and she will, that baby is yours. I don't care if it's black as coal _that baby is yours_. You understand?" Spencer nodded. Of course it would be. He would never break the fantasy that kept these people sane by suggesting otherwise. And how could he help but love any child that came from her. "Good. Now finish up and get to bed. Morning comes early."

* * *

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"I tried to explain to her." Spencer said. "I apologized over and over. She still believes it's supposed to be like that. Before today I thought I might well have killed her." He put his hands over his eyes, as if he could block out the memory of her screaming. "Every goddammed night having to go _hurt_ her and maybe _kill_ her and I couldn't find some way..."

"Hey, kid." Morgan kept his voice gentle. "You remember James Thomas?"

"Yes. A Caucasian, emasculated troilist who forced his male victims to take Viagra and then watched them have sex with their partners before shooting them in such a way that they lingered while he stabbed the women, a simulation of a sex act, thereby proving his greater masculinity..."

Morgan saw the connections being made behind his friend's eyes. "Isn't that what these Unsubs are? OCD freaks, power-obsessed, but in the end emasculated troilists obsessed with controlling everyone else's sex life."

"But it's different."

"How?"

"I'm an FBI agent! I'm with the BAU, I'm...I'm a bloody genius!"

"Right. So they had to put you on an island, lock you behind an electrified fence with a shock collar, take away all methods of communication, practically starve you for ten months to weaken you, surround you with armed guards, lock you both up in a prison cell, chain her to the wall, force Viagra down your throat and stand over you with billy clubs and weapons first. All Thomas's victims had to do was get away from one guy with a gun."

Spencer stared at him a long minute. "What are you saying?"

"That you're not a monster. You're as much a victim as she is, as they were. And no one here is going to hate you for that. You are a victim here." Spencer's mind felt hollow as it finally started to sink in. He felt the tears start, although he didn't know why. "Yeah, there you go." Morgan said. "And likely you protected her from greater harm along the way and from the sound of it those nineteen children as well. You did the best you could under the circumstances."

"I still need to know how to make this better for her." He said. "Maybe...maybe it's not my fault or my responsibility, but I love her and..."

"You have to let her figure out what she needs. We'll help you come up with ideas but it's up to her to decide what she wants to do. Part of this is giving her those choices back. But what's more important is taking care of you. You've got to figure out what you need to do to heal from this."

Spencer could almost feel the answers tickling at the edges of his consciousness. But if he tried to reach for them he knew they would go away. He knew it could take a long time. "I don't know yet." He said.

"That's okay. You've got time. Now I would love to say you don't have to deal right now, but..."

"We need to tell them. We need to tell everyone."


	24. Chapter 24

_**Part 4**_

 _I measure the progress of a community by the degree of progress which women have achieved._

 _B. R. Ambedkar_

* * *

 _._

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State.**

 **October 2011**

"Jesus." The doctor said.

"I doubt He had anything to do with it." Emily just got off the phone with Morgan, and had explained to the doctor in charge the reason behind all the children and the curious customs of these people.

The Masters were _breeding_ them.

"That explains why they control contact." Andi said. "You never know if you're half-siblings or not. They had to keep the genetics straight."

"We're going to need whatever records they kept." The doctor said. "People are going to need to know that even if they don't discuss it openly. You know this explains the numbers we're working with; on most of these plantations every woman between 21 and 45 is pregnant or nursing. They all need medical care. At least now we know what we're dealing with."

"What about 2711?" Emily asked.

"She's not." The doctor replied. "But given the situation I don't know how they managed that."

* * *

 **Samaritan Medical Center  
Watertown, NY**

"I didn't feed her." The head Parson midwife said.

Emily and Andi had called JJ, who tracked Midwife and her two helpers down at the hospital, where she was continuing to help with the pregnant women and the newborns, given that she was the only medical care they'd ever had. Now they were talking to her over a speaker line. "You didn't feed her?" JJ asked.

"I know this is going to sound crazy but I am dammed glad we had the Master we did." Midwife said. She was a rangy older woman in a brown dress and dark red apron, the apparent uniform of her office. "He insisted we all learn our numbers and letters. Because of that I've been able to keep track over the years. If I make sure a girl gets her share of the butter and eggs and milk starting when she's about nineteen or so in about six months she'll fill in her breasts and start her monthly bleed, just as regular as clockwork. I'll keep her on that diet and some if I can until the baby is six months. Then I'll start feeding it to the baby until she's ready to go again. But if for some reason she's not, or shouldn't be having one in the first place then I won't. Keep a girl to where you can see a proper bit of rib and she'll have all the energy she needs but she'll never bleed. If they don't bleed they don't take. They can set the men to plowing her as much as they like but she'll never get planted."

"And that's what you did to 2711?" JJ asked.

"Absolutely. Have you seen that girl? There's no way I could safely get a baby out of those hips. And good thing I did too, when it was coming on to her birthday I went to Overseer and begged him to keep her out of the program. I told him that she was too small, there was no way she'd have the kind of healthy babies Master wants, but he said Master wanted her planted, and planted by that new schoolmaster. He wanted a 'brainiac baby', or so Overseer said, and that was the end of it. Well, I don't care what Master wants I wasn't going to risk Teacher's life for it, especially with that schoolmaster. I mean his bones are fine enough but he's so tall! There was no way I could get his baby through her pelvis. If a girl doesn't plant in a year she washes out, so I figured I'd just keep Teacher's diet down so she'd wash and that would be the end of it. About the time she'd wash out my apprentice would be old enough. She's a bright one and has hips like a dairy cow; I wouldn't have any problem getting his baby out of her."

"Right. Good to know, thank you."

* * *

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State.**

"That was the most uncomfortable interview I think I've ever heard." Emily said. "Wow."

"I know." JJ said through the phone. "I spoke to the midwife from Ashley's farm, they started trying to get her pregnant the night after she arrived."

"Is that how she got pregnant?"

"Very likely. But they didn't keep records like Parson Farm, and their overseer destroyed the..." She took a deep breath. "...the breeding logs. Ashley consented to a CVS test to determine paternity but she said if it's one of the slaves she won't press charges."

"I don't blame her, he's as much a victim as she it. Wait, if?"

"If. But I don't have the details, she's only up for so much right now."

"All right, keep up posted."

Emily rang off and looked up at Hotch. "We're going to have to interview Talitha Jensen." He said.

Emily sagged. "Great."

* * *

Now how were they going to do this?

They borrowed some office space on base, for the privacy and so this could be recorded. Emily found a chair in the middle of the room and nodded to Willow to sit across from her. Hotch hung back, concerned that she might be unwilling to speak at all to a dominant man. After a moment Andi joined them. Emily took a deep breath and tried not to think about how her feet only barely touched the floor. "Do you still want us to call you Teacher?" She asked.

"You can call me Talitha, or Tally if you prefer." She said, "Since we're not going to be teachers anymore. Although he is still a professor, isn't he?" Tally considered this a moment. "Yes, that will do. According to Professor 'Talitha' means little girl in my father's language. It's a good description."

"Right. All right Tally, we know there are some things your community doesn't talk about. But we have some questions that we need answers for. We're sorry but we have to ask." Tally nodded her acceptance so Emily continued. "We need to be very clear here. Are you and...Professor having a physical relationship?"

"A physical relationship?"

Oh hell. "Having...intercourse? Sex? Um..." This was not working. "Trying to make a baby?"

"Oh! Yes, he's been trying to plant a baby since my birthday."

And she made it sound so ordinary. "And you're sure it was him?"

"Yes. He apologized the first night, and I recognized his voice. He was very upset the next day and no one else was at the school yet so we talked about it."

He apologized. That was Spencer for you. "Now for the big question, did you agree to this happening?"

Tally took a deep breath and gave her a very patient smile. "He and I have had this discussion a few times since then."

"Oh?"

"If you're asking if I wanted to make a baby over the past few months? No. Not that I don't want a baby but if I did get planted they'd have someone else plant me as soon as it was weaned. Not something I'd even like to think about. Did I say anything or fight back? No. If you do you get to spend a few days in the Overseers house being reminded that you're not human. The last girl who did that spent weeks healing, and she's still not right in the head. So while I didn't want a baby right then I chose not to fight. But I don't think that's what you want to know."

"So what do you think I want to know?"

"You don't want to know if the time was right, or the place, or if I wanted it to be like that or I wanted JD and the others watching. I think what you to know is if we had been in a place where he could have asked if I wanted to, and I could have said yes or no, and I didn't have to worry about being punished for saying no or my baby being taken away, would I have said yes? Including the first time. You want to know if I would have chosen that _person_ to plant my children."

"Exactly. Would you have said yes, if you could have?"

Tally beamed a smile, "Absolutely. I do love him, and I wouldn't want to with anyone else. When we made our vows I didn't know how planting babies worked, so I thought it would be him anyway and I was agreeing to that."

"Here's a question." Andi said. "Did you two ever try to make a baby anywhere other than the Night Barns."

Tally blushed harder. "No." She admitted. "But I wanted to. If we'd had the privacy I would have asked him about that. And I do plan to in the future, if he still wants to."

Andi turned to Hotch, "My professional opinion? Taking the situation into account this was a consensual relationship."

"All right," he looked over at Tally. "Thank you...Mrs. Reid."

Tally beamed. "Oh, that name works too!"


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"I need the school." Spencer said. He had moved away while Morgan called everyone, was sitting on a table by the window looking out at the soothing, familiar countryside.

"You need the school?" Morgan asked.

"You asked me what I needed to heal. Right now I need to feel safe. Not that I don't now, but..."

"But? Talk to me."

"I need the school. That was our private place, mine and Tally's, dedicated to our needs and our...comfort. It was a place where we could talk and think and not have to be afraid of who might overhear. JD used to sit in his truck right by the courtyard gates at the end of the day just waiting for an excuse to take his inadequacy and lack of self-esteem out on someone. You didn't dare even look up when you were around him. The school was an escape from that. I need a place like that, preferably with her in it, a place that's safe and away from...likely repercussions. That's what I need."

Morgan nodded. "I can see that. The best I can do right now is your own hotel room."

"That would be a start."

"Okay, give me a few."

Why? "Why? It's a hotel room."

Morgan grinned. "Trust me...Doc."

Doc? But Spencer wasn't going to ask. He sensed conspiracy in the air. "Does Emily still have Tally?"

"Yeah, they're giving her the medical once over."

"Is she...um..."

"No. She's not pregnant." Spencer let out a whole lot of stress on a big, deep breath. Morgan noticed. "Seems the midwives there agreed with your assessment, they were doing something to keep that from happening."

"Thank god." She wasn't going to die. His love wasn't going to die anytime soon. He hadn't killed her. That was an immense relief.

"You don't want kids?"

"I do, preferably with her. But given her stature I'd be a lot more comfortable if she had real medical care throughout the process. Not that the Midwives there haven't done their best, but..."

"I get it. All right. Just sit tight, they'll be here when they're done." Morgan headed out to do what wanted doing.

The problem was the sitting tight bit. Spencer wasn't used to being in hermetically sealed modern spaces anymore. Even in the classroom he left his door and windows open to the fresh air all day long. And everything there was handmade, or perhaps antique. The plastic, closed-in-ness of this hotel was bothering him.

So he didn't sit tight. There were trees out there, quiet green spaces just past farmland occupied by a cow from the looks of it. He found his jacket and his walking stick, stuck a note on the table that said he was going for a walk, and headed that way.

He walked over the field watched the sun move over the sky. What else did he need to heal? A place where he felt safe, safe in himself and safe with Willow. Privacy. The chance to sit with and understand his own body and his own desires again.

But he also needed to know that he would not hurt Willow in the process. He needed to help her as well. He was responsible for that, not out of obligation but out of love.

"There you are," said a familiar voice behind him.

He turned and grinned at the sight of her, so achingly familiar now in her tan dress, blue pinafore and that grey cardigan she'd made, her basket in her hands. "I needed to get out." He said.

"I don't blame you. These are very strange places." She came over and stood quite close. "Hello Professor."

"Professor?"

"We're not teachers anymore. But you are still a Professor, and I am still quite small and female so 'Professor' and 'Tally' will do." She took his hand as they ambled under the green canopy. "I know they're your family, Spencer, but I would still rather not hear my true name from anyone but you."

"That's all right Willow. We'll do as you feel best. They'll respect that."

They walked together a little while, the peace of it easing his mind again. "You were right, they did ask about consent. I assume that means you had to talk about it."

"I did. I'm sorry."

"That's all right, they asked nicely. I told them the truth."

"That's good." They walked for a few in silence. Then, "They hurt both of us you know."

"I've been trying to tell you that."

"I think I needed to hear it from someone who understands monsters to be sure I hadn't become one."

She nodded. "Understandable. But I don't feel hurt. Except..."

"Except?"

She was looking off into the distance of memory. "They had midwives there today, to see who was pregnant and to see if people were healthy. They wanted to loosen my dress, they had this thing they wanted to press against my back and chest and...I remembered how it felt, when we were there, and what JD said and I just...I couldn't do it. I don't want anyone to look at me. I couldn't even take my pinafore off." She looked up at him. "Is that what you mean? That twisted up feeling?"

"Yes." He said. "It's a way of being hurt, and not an uncommon one when this kind of thing happens. I'm sorry you feel that way." He thought of something. "Did I make you feel uncomfortable like that?"

"No, just the opposite; you made me feel safer, protected. And I never felt like you were displeased with what you saw. Which is entirely different from loving someone as a friend and spouse, isn't it."

"Never. Not at all, you are, um, very pleasing. I wanted to protect you as much as I could. I was angry at JD and the others more than anything. And I was trying to look as little as possible; I thought you'd be uncomfortable like that."

"I was." Willow looked up at him again, as if weighing the meaning of his words. "Housekeeper said that sometimes people from a place only find people from that same place pleasing to look at. JD and the others were from another place, she said people looked very different there, and that was why he said such awful things; that and being a bad person in general. But that since we were from the same place you might disagree."

"I do."

"So I don't look like some nasty, sick raggy doll?"

He was stung on her behalf. "Absolutely not." Prison might be too good for JD. "I think you're beautiful."

She gave him another of those up from the side looks and turned pink. "Good to know. And I think you're a very handsome man. I think for now I'd like to stay quite covered up unless we're very alone. I don't feel like inviting commentary on my looks like that."

It was part of their culture, he decided, like not using proper names. "What else do you want?"

"No, you next."

What did he need to feel comfortable? The best answer, he knew, was the one that came right off the top, before he could overthink it. "I need control." He said. "They made us take these pills that made us lose control of our bodies. I need to never do that again." So help him unless he shut down completely he was never going near the stuff. "It might take time for me to figure out how without them though. If you still want to I mean?"

"Plant a baby? Yes, of course."

Uhhh... "Thing is, there are ways of doing that without actually planting a baby. People do that just because they enjoy it."

"Really? Even better. I'd like to have a chance to learn more before I have to confine myself with a baby." Willow gave him another of those looks. "But I do like the way you feel. I think I might miss that part tonight."

Spencer stopped walking and blinked at her a long moment, "Really?"

"Really. Once I could block out everyone else but you that was starting to feel quite pleasant."

He might not need as long to recover as he thought. "We can work with that."

"But not the way we did."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to feel too _small_ anymore, especially not then."

"Too small?"

"Yes. Maybe I'm spoiled because everything in the school fit me, and my chair in the eating hall was built for me and my bunk as well. I felt so small and helpless in the barn, and I was always so afraid I was going to put a wrist out hanging on to the wall, I don't want to feel like that again."

Spencer shook his head. "You won't." He said. "At least not in any place I can control. I'll do what I can to make our home fit both of us." And to ever keep her from feeling helpless and vulnerable again.

Willow beamed up at him. "Thank you. That would be a huge help. Your turn again."

"I need to know I can call for help should someone like JD or even the Masters cross our path again." He needed the team, his friends, his _family_ , around him. He had missed them so. Their walk had taken them through the grove of trees and back around to the field by the hotel again. He heard someone hail and looked up to see Morgan and Emily waiving for his attention. "But it looks like that is going to be taken care of now."

"Oh excellent!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"I didn't wander off." Spencer said when they were in talking distance. "I left a note. I didn't lose the babysitter." He nodded to the junior agent who had been following at a discrete distance.

"I know." Morgan replied. "I appreciate that. But here." He handed Spencer a replacement phone. It was disturbing to realize just how much better he felt with that. Morgan handed one to Tally as well. "Uhhh...here. Keep this with you. The Professor here will show you how to use it."

"All right. Thank you." Tally slipped it into her apron pocket, missing Morgan placing his hand against the bottom of his sternum, about where her head would reach. Spencer just gave him a blank look, so she was small, so what?

"Housekeeper sent a bag of things along for you, since she didn't know if you were coming back." Emily said to Tally.

"Oh good. I know I'm not going back tonight anyway. At least I don't think I am." Tally looked up at Spencer for confirmation.

"You can if you want." He replied. "But I'd rather you stay. I'm going to stay."

"In that case I'm going to stay as well."

That decided Morgan led them back to their room. "Now you have to know," He said. "We are on the road. This was the best I could do." He opened the door with a flourish.

Spencer stepped in, took a look, and landed on the bed, laughing harder than he had in a year.

Now every chain hotel room is pretty much the same. There's a bed, which may or may not be comfortable, which may or may not have decorative elements which just get in the way, and which may or may not have enough pillows. There are two nightstands, one with a clock radio and a Gideon bible. There is a dresser, which is rarely used and which supports a television. There is likely a desk with a guide to local attractions, a set of menus to places that deliver, and a mirror over it, and a small table with uncomfortable chairs. There is generically bland art, an ice bucket, perhaps a stand to hold an open suitcase and if you're really lucky a small coffee maker with incredibly shitty coffee. This described the room he and Tally were sharing that night more or less exactly.

But Morgan had gotten creative. The generic wall art over the bed was down, replaced with a pinned up road club map of North America. On the wall opposite, next to the TV, a small cork board had been pinned up and decorated with bright cartoon cutouts that spoke of classrooms and teachers. An American flag on a stand, likely borrowed from the base, had been placed in the corner by the window, and opposite it a small white board had been rolled in. A globe sat in the middle of the table next to a crate of school supplies. Finally a printed off picture of the President had been pinned up on the wall between the bedroom and the bathroom.

"What the hell?" Emily asked.

"He said they felt safest in the school." Morgan replied. He gestured to the room. "So I set up a school. Even remembered this," he picked up a small stepstool.

"Books!" Spencer managed to gasp out.

"We have to pack most of this stuff back you know." Morgan replied. "What you read would fill up the hold of the plane. Here," he picked up two computer tablets that were sitting on the table. "I know you're going to tell me they're slow but baby girl went for quantity."

"What is it?" Tally asked.

"It's got your whole classroom library plus some in it." Morgan replied. "He'll show you how to use it."

"The whole library? Really?" Tally looked at it in astonishment, then at the crate of supplies on the table. "It's wonderful! Thank you so much!" When she looked up her eyes and smile sparkled.

"You're welcome sister." Morgan grinned and looked over at Spencer. "Yeah?"

"Thank you." Spencer finally managed to stop laughing and got to his feet to give Morgan a thank you hug. He hadn't realized how much they cared.

"You have lost your mind." Emily said, shaking her head. "Okay, payment. Rossi found a barber; you have an appointment first thing in the morning."

"Don't like the beard huh?" Spencer scratched at his chin. He hadn't been able to shave since he was taken, it had come in nicely.

"You look like a yeti."

"It's not that bad. It does make me look older."

"I like you better without it." Tally said.

That settled it. "All right then."

* * *

Later that evening Spencer bade good night to the team and headed into his room, locking the door behind him. He stopped on the way in to change into his pajamas and wash his beard for the last time.

He'd missed them. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed them all. How much he'd missed the easy exchange of ideas and topics and gentle jokes and being with people who understood the life they led. He'd earned a new nickname from them all. FBI tradition used last names, but now he was also "Doc", out of respect for Tally's culture and the bits of it he was keeping. And Morgan had been calling her sister, which meant acceptance.

He had the most _amazing_ family.

But now he wanted, needed this privacy, this quiet in their makeshift school house. He needed time when it was just them, when they could heal together.

But he hadn't realized what private time together would mean.

He'd asked Tally for one thing, no more night dresses. The thought of holding her in the same thing she'd worn then sickened him. Which was why when he came around the corner and he found her kneeling on the bed in her petticoat and this tank top thing that tied under her breasts, all thin material that let him see hints of coral pink and darkness and sweet tempting curves, he felt his mouth go dry. She'd taken down her hair, something they never did where men could see, and copper red curls hung to her waist, likely uncut in fourteen years. She was brushing it out slowly, her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

Yep. Didn't need the pills. "You're beautiful." He said.

"Am I?" She opened amber eyes to look at him. "Housekeeper must be right then."

"She is." He wanted to. He was going to ache with wanting to as he slept with her in his arms tonight. But he didn't have what he needed to truly keep from hurting her, and so he wouldn't. But he very much wanted to.

"There's a bag left for you." Willow said, nodding to the nightstand as she went back to brushing her hair.

He stepped over and looked and silently blessed whichever benevolent friend thought of what they would need. He looked back and found her looking at him. "What are you thinking?" He asked.

"I miss it." She replied quietly. "This is a much better place."

"It is." I made her cry in pain once, Spencer thought. If I make her cry in pleasure enough it might make balance those cosmic books. It certainly couldn't hurt to try. He bent over and joined her on the bed and his lips found hers.

"I don't know about that table though." She said when the kiss broke. "It's not very sturdy."

She still thought that was how it was supposed to happen, he realized. But while he had very little experience he had read extensively on the subject. He had ideas. "Not the table." He said. He settled with his back against the headboard, silently thanked his ancestors for his slender frame, and pulled her over to straddle his lap. This way he couldn't accidentally hurt her. "Like this."

"Like this? Oh..." He saw surprise in her eyes as she realized just how she was sitting, and then he groaned as she squirmed against him. "I like this." She said as she draped her arms around his shoulders and stretched up to kiss him.

And those books started to balance.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

The next morning Spencer left Tally snuggled in their little mock schoolhouse, savoring all those books, while he went and had his beard off. It took exactly that much time for things to start falling apart. "What?" He asked, shocked, when he returned to the hotel and met with the team.

"There are maps listing Grindstone Island to both the US and Canada, as well as to neither side of the border." Hotch replied. "Rocheson's lawyers are arguing that it was outside all international boundaries, and so neither side has jurisdiction."

"He was keeping slaves!" Morgan said.

"Which is illegal under a number of international treaties. He's arguing that he and his people never signed those treaties. In addition he's arguing that all of the slaves there entered into slavery willingly based on their religious beliefs."

"I do not believe this!" Morgan said.

"What about the people?" Emily asked.

"He and the other co-owners are allowing them to return under what they called the terms of their contacts."

"In other words as slaves. Are they going?"

"Most of them are, yes."

"Why?!"

"Fear." Spencer replied. "They have nothing out here and know nothing of the world off the island. In addition the Masters have been telling stories of the horrors of the outside world to them for decades. They've been brainwashed to believe that if they try to live off the island they'll be forced to live naked in the streets and starve as bands of roving thugs rape all the women and children and most of the men. Yes, they really tell them that." He nodded to their shocked faces. "The Masters make them believe that living the way they do is a vastly kinder, gentler option, given to them out of their Christian duty. Losing all their personal possessions must have brought those fears back. Now that they've destroyed the Night Barns that must look like a better option than violent homelessness."

"The lawyers are going to be untangling this for decades." Hotch said. "In the meantime it looks like that Island is going to return to status quo for most of the farms."

"Most of the farms?" Rossi asked.

"The people from Parson Farm and a handful from other farms have chosen not to return." Hotch said. Spencer sagged from relief. "They've collectively applied for refugee status. We don't have any way of dealing with this situation but the Canadian government has opened its doors. They're going to set them up with some land and help them with the transition."

"Thank god." Rossi replied. "I wonder why that group in particular decided that way."

"Two reasons." Spencer said. "One, Housekeeper and Foreman came to the Island as teenagers. They remember enough of the outside world to be able to steer their people through the transition. Two, Parson insisted all his people be literate. An 8th grade education might not be ideal, but it would be enough to counterbalance the fear of the unknown. But I can't believe the Masters are getting away with this."

"They might not. You, Seaver and Tally were kidnapped on US soil. We can start there." Hotch looked up as a junior agent brought him a legal looking note and nodded to two men in suits who followed them in. "Rocheson's lawyers are demanding the return of all confiscated material goods immediately."

"So we can't keep any evidence." Emily said. "Does he really think that would work?"

"Until we settle jurisdiction, yes."

"How much physical evidence do we have?" Morgan asked.

"Very little, it's all witness testimony. We don't have anything we can argue we need to keep."

But Spencer's mind was whirling. "No, this isn't about evidence." He said. "This is about harassment. He bought or owned everything they had on that island, including personal items. He's trying to make it harder for them to leave."

"Will it work?" Rossi asked.

"Not if I know Foreman and Housekeeper. They'll get everyone through it." But another thought came to him. "When do they want things returned?" Spencer asked

"Immediately," Hotch replied. "They're collecting now. This says they have reason to believe we're keeping some items here, these two have come to collect them." He nodded to the two in suits.

"We're not!" Emily said.

"Yes we are." Spencer replied. "Excuse me." He went back to his room.

"I don't know that Seaver is going to be any help." Rossi said. "They were talking about transferring her to Children's Hospital in Philly as soon as she's stable. They have the best NICU on this side of the country."

"She's that bad?" Morgan asked.

"She's still at the hard to tell stage."

Spencer came out carrying a duffel bag. He all but threw it at the men waiting. "That's all of it." He snapped, "Unless you have an itemized list."

"Reid." Hotch said quietly. Spencer disengaged, turning to take his temper over to the windows.

"I got it." Morgan said quietly. He followed Spencer to the other side of the room. "What is this?"

"They humiliated her Morgan." Spencer replied. "They stripped her down and shamed her and now they've taken everything she thought of as hers. I'm not going to go to court with Rocheson over who owns her underwear but she was raised in a very modest culture and at the moment she's wearing one of my shirts as a dress. It's a deliberate ploy to humiliate those women and shame the men for not being able to do anything about it and it's working."

"I know." Okay, so Spencer had reason to be pissed. "They'll figure it out at the shelter, maybe JJ has something she can borrow."

"JJ's a foot taller than she is Morgan. Some of her students were taller than she is, she wears children's sizes. Now she can be humiliated out here or go back and be the respected schoolteacher again. That's his game, that's what he wants, and I cannot see how to fight it."

"You're too close to this."

"I am way too close to this."

"Okay, there's a Wal-mart over there. Write down her measurements, make a list, I'll go find her something."

* * *

After Spencer sent Morgan off he went back to their room, their little schoolhouse. "I'm sorry." He said for the umpteenth time.

Willow had found his cardigan, was huddled in it, her legs under the covers, her hair a thick ribbon of fire over her shoulder, her nose in a book. "It's not your fault, Spencer." She replied. "He's trying to humiliate us, to get us to crawl back. It's not going to work."

Brave words. But he could see that her eyes were unfocused, not really looking at the page. He dropped on the bed with her. "But..."

"But...I don't want to be treated like a child. Among our people I'm the Teacher. People respect that and my size doesn't matter. But JD and his men just saw me as small and helpless, something they wanted to...use." Her voice was so quiet when she said that. "How did the people back home see me? What are the people out there going to see?" She was quiet a long moment. "What if that's what I am? What if the only thing that's kept me safe all these years has been the way Housekeeper and Foreman and the others see me? And without that, what happens now? What am I now? Who am I now?"

Spencer thought about this. "On the island that very well might have been the case." After all, something had kept the one person old enough to appeal to someone not a pedophile but small enough to be no risk whatsoever safe from predation. "Out there most people are reasonably good and won't want to hurt you. They'll respect you as a person, not just because of your education or your job. Not that those don't help but there's usually a baseline of respect. On the other hand..." He sighed. "...some people are going to mistake you for a child. It wouldn't surprise me if it happened. But I'm reminded of a Shakespeare quote, from A Midsummer Night's Dream, act 3, scene 2, Helena talking about Hermia –

 _Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!  
She was a vixen when she went to school.  
And though she be but little, she is fierce._

Willow grinned at him. "Fierce, huh?"

"I remember you and I've heard some of the stories. I don't think anyone will mistake you for a child. As for whom else you are, who do you want to be?"

"A teacher. A student. Your wife still, if you'll have me."

"There and here, I meant it."

She took a deep breath. "Well, that's a place to start. I think I'm going to braid my hair."

She said it like it was a big decision. "Um, okay?" He said.

She started raking her fingers through it. "First Peter, chapter 3, verse three, from the bible they use."

"Whose appareling let it not be that outward, with braided hair, and gold put about, or in putting on of apparel." Spencer quoted. "They wouldn't let you braid your hair?"

"No. Pie got switched for trying it once."

"Pie?"

"My sister. She makes the most amazing crust. Anyway, if they tried it I'd snap the switch over my knee now. I always wondered how this would look. And how you do it." She frowned at the mirror across the room.

Spencer grinned. "See, fierce. Here," he pulled over her tablet and opened her browser, looking for how to braid and then dug some rubber bands out of his bag. "Have fun. I'll be back." He left her to it and went to find Hotch. "Do you know what they're doing about marriages on the island?"

"Recognizing them for now, if the people involved want them to be recognized. The thought is that denying them will perpetuate the abuse. Long term people will have to get licenses at least." Hotch looked up at him. "What are your plans?"

"I was going to take Tally out to renew our vows in Vegas or LA, depending on what her family said, but now... We're married. That's it." It was his turn to be fierce.

And Hotch understood. "All right."

Just then Morgan came back. "It was this or stretch pants that said 'flirt' over the ass." He said, handing Spencer a bag. "They didn't have a single skirt in her size. This is why I'm still practicing for kids."

"Boys are easier." Hotch nodded.

"We need to go buy one more thing." Spencer said.

When they left the hotel again sometime later Tally was trying to get used to jeans and a thermal t-shirt. She was still wearing that too large cardigan. And she'd braided her hair into a single plait running down her back, with curls to frame her face. She looked little, Spencer thought, but she looked fierce. And while he couldn't make her an official teacher or an official anything else, he could do one thing.

The gold band on her finger was a perfect fit.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State**

 **October 2011**

As they pulled in they passed a number of busses pulling out. Foreman was standing there with what looked like the rest of the men, watching them go, his anger like thunder on the horizon. "Idiots, the lot of them," he said as they approached.

"They're afraid." Spencer said. "They don't know any other way."

"But they know what they're going back to." He shook his head. "Not my people. Fuck Parson and the horse he rode in on. Never again."

"Where's Housekeeper?" Tally asked.

"Hey, Teacher," Foreman said with a respectful nod. "She's inside; some of the others are upset."

"Andi and I have been in there with the others this morning." Emily said. "This is turning out to be a lot bigger than just replacing what Rocheson took."

"Oh?" Spencer asked.

"It looks like many if not most of the women worked in the main house or in the Elder's homes as servants. They're not only out of jobs they've lost what amounts to their career."

"Not a bad thing." Morgan pointed out.

"No, but now they have to redefine their role in their community. And given that they're no longer Master's brood mares...I know." Emily said as both men shuddered. "...they're having to redefine the basic role of women in their community as well. And let me tell you, there are some strong, determined women in there. They are going to define themselves and the world is going to accept that, like it or not. But it's not easy."

"What they decide we support." Foreman said. "But they have to decide for themselves. In the meantime we have other work."

While the women of the Grindstone Colony, as they were now calling themselves, sorted out their roles the men sorted out the physical plant of the community. The next island in the chain, Wolfe Island, was a part of the province of Ontario, held a small town of about 400 and a lot of farm and nature preserve land. Given that the Colony would live rather lightly upon the ground the Canadian government agreed to make a place for them there, with temporary housing to get them through the winter and assistance to help them re-integrate with modern society. The Canadian and US governments were going to go after Rocheson and Parson to pay for it all. "We discussed it with the women this morning." Foreman said. "They want to keep the communal kitchen. They said there's no reason for every woman to have to cook every day, or every man either. And it's a good way for people to gather. But we want separate sleeping quarters, for families to be together."

"Of course," the NGO rep said.

"And we want a proper medical clinic for the women and children, and new teachers since our old ones are leaving us." Foreman flashed Spencer a grin. "That was as far as we got before we were interrupted."

"That's a good place to start."

"It is, but we can't end there," said a familiar voice behind them.

They turned and saw Housekeeper joining them. She was wearing the same surplus clothes the military had handed out to both sexes, with her hair plaited down her back. "What the hell?" Foreman asked without heat. "I thought you weren't supposed to do your hair like that."

"Yeah, supposedly it says so in their bible. It's funny how they always found a justification for treating us like crap in that book." Housekeeper said. "Well, to quote my husband, fuck that. Teacher's right, this is easy, comfortable and practical. We have a community to build; we don't need to be spending time fussing on our hair. We're here to farm and make a business, not dust knickknacks and bake cookies anymore. We'll have to figure out clothes as we go."

"You know we managed the work without you for all those years."

"Yeah, but Parson's money isn't going to last forever. We need to be working to replace what he was putting in so we can get what we need. And all any of us know how to do is farm, so we're all going to have to put our backs into it if we want to stay together and make this work." Housekeeper replied.

Foreman chuckled. "Practical. That is why I love you." He said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Practical does have its value." Tally said as she joined the group. Another woman came with her, this one with an infant in a sling.

"I was gonna ask, I didn't know hair came in that color, Teacher." Foreman teased gently.

Tally blushed but lifted her chin. "It must since I'm growing it." She replied. "Please don't say anything about a raggy doll, whatever that is."

"I won't." Foreman promised. "Oh, everyone, this is my daughter Pie, and my granddaughter." He put an arm around the woman with the child. "We don't know what we're calling her yet."

Introductions were made all around. "How about 'Tart'?' Spencer suggested, "A little Pie."

"I like that." Pie said.

"Thank you, smart ass." Housekeeper said to him without any heat.

"What about people who don't want to stay on the farm?" The NGO rep asked.

"We're not owners." Foreman replied. "It's up to everyone if they want to stay or not."

"The problem is no one knows what's out there." Housekeeper said. "I left LA when I was sixteen, even I don't remember that much. Enough to know that there are options out there, but no details. People want to stay with familiar work, in a familiar setting."

"But your people aren't going back for that, like the others." Morgan said.

"Unlike the others we know we can recreate that familiarity elsewhere, with some help. At least we have that much, they don't even have that. We've been told all our lives that the outside world is dangerous and evil. At least Foreman and I know it's not that bad."

"And unlike the others we have scouts." Foreman said.

"Scouts?" The NGO rep asked.

"Yeah, these two," he nodded to Spencer and Tally. "Especially her, she's going to have to write back and tell us about the world out there. You're going to have to keep teaching us, Teacher."

"Always my pleasure," Tally replied.

"You know, I am a great believer in letter writing." Spencer said. "But in this case there might be something better. Grab your tablet." He said to Morgan. He took a few steps back, pulled out his phone and pointed it at Tally. "Say something." He said.

"Say something?"

"Start reciting the Gettysburg Address."

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure."

"Good enough." He stopped the video and sent it to Morgan, who opened it up and played it back for the people gathered.

"I'll be dammed. It's like your own little TV studio." Foreman said. "How far away can they get and still have that work?"

"Anywhere on the planet if we set it up right." Spencer looked at the NGO rep. "We can get them on the net?"

"That's going to be one of the first things we do." She replied. "We'll need that for our own offices."

"That's your job then." Housekeeper said to Tally. "You know what we need to learn as a community, go figure it out and make TV shows and send them back to us. And we'll figure out how to send you questions as we go."

"Perfect job for a Teacher," Foreman agreed.

Tally beamed, "Absolutely."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

 **Ft. Drum Military Reservation  
New York State**

 **October 2011**

But finding a group identity couldn't spare individual pain. "Reid." Hotch called to him.

They were still helping sort the details that afternoon. Technically Spencer knew he was a victim, Tally was a victim, they should want to run from this place and these people and never look back. But somehow these people were family now, he couldn't just abandon them. He had to help see them safe. "What's going on?" Hotch had been working on trying to interview the actual Unsubs here, a difficult task given the thicket of lawyers in the way. Something big must have come up for him to come out here.

"Garcia was able to track down Monica and Berjur Jensen. They were living in Tórshavn, Denmark."

"That was Berjur's hometown. I remember hearing that they moved back there after Tally's case went cold." He remembered the anger he felt at them giving up, but he was fifteen and could do nothing. "You wouldn't have come all the way out here to tell me that."

Hotch handed him the file he was carrying. "Traffic incident, twelve years ago. It was ruled suspicious, but they were never able to come up with anything." He sighed. "I'm very sorry."

"Damnit!" Spencer opened the file and read over it quickly. Yes, it was exactly as Hotch said, about six months after they left the US. He'd processed the bitterness of their rejection years ago, but it still hurt. And now he had to tell...

"Professor, what is it?" Tally asked. She came and peeked at the paperwork, which turned into taking it from him and reading it.

"I am so sorry sweetheart." This had to hurt, to lose them after all this time.

"I'm...not." She didn't sound like she was broken up about it at all. "I...don't know these people. I mean, I did. I'm sure I did once."

"But they're your family." Hotch said

"We're not animals, Agent Hotchner. Your family are the people who love you, not the people in your bloodline. I'm sure if I would have stayed with them I'd be upset now, but I lost them and gained a new family a long time ago. I mean, Professor here probably knew these people a lot better than I ever did. I'm sorry he lost them."

"So you don't believe you have a family?"

"This is my family." She nodded to the knot of people over by one of the tables. "Housekeeper took me to her space as one of her own my first night on the island. She was there every time I got sick or had a nightmare or had a fit over what happened to me. Foreman was there for me every time I needed a father, for every hurt. I don't know how many times he got between me and JD. Pie and I grew up as sisters, we shared a bed and every secret for years now. Player is my brother-in-law, Tart is my niece, _this_ is my family. I love them and they love me." But she didn't give them back the file, not yet. "Excuse me." She went and rejoined the others.

Hotch looked over at Spencer. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Spencer admitted. "I guess I thought I'd bring her home, be the hero, and we'd all be the family I remembered. But that's not going to happen. I should have known that."

"It was likely something you needed to get through. As far as heroic welcomes from family, wait until Garcia and Henry get a hold of you."

"This is very true."

"Hey!" Foreman called out. "Son-in-law! Get over here!" He motioned for Spencer to join them. "You too!" He indicated Hotch.

Family are the people you, the people who love you. The two agents looked at each other, shrugged, and went to extend the family.

* * *

In a few days the Colony was supposed to head to their new home, to help setting up the structures and settling in before bad weather could sneak up on them. But Spencer had to do one thing first. "Here." He said, handing out safety goggles to the assembled group.

"What are you doing?" Housekeeper asked.

"This." Tally said. "Excuse me." She joined the group, her arms filled with small pumpkins.

"This again." Foreman shook his head and chuckled. "Okay little girl, squish a pumpkin, get the tantrum over with."

"You know, I haven't had a tantrum over this in ten years."

"Yes, but they were so memorable."

"Put this on." Spencer had long, heavy gloves and thick, rubber aprons for him and Tally to wear. He loaded her, the pumpkins and a large, metal canister into a cherry picker and used it to get them a few feet off the ground. "Okay, start with this one." He handed her a pumpkin.

Tally took it and tossed it over the side. It landed on one of the tarps he had spread out with a wet sound, caved in and the seeds started oozing out. "Every year." Housekeeper shook her head.

"Hold on." Spencer said. He opened the canister and what looked like steam started billowing out. He took one of the pumpkins and dropped it in, using tongs to hold it carefully by the stem. After a few minutes he pulled it out and handed it to Tally. It was smoking. "Over the other side."

"All right." She gave it a gentle toss and dropped it on the other tarp.

It shattered.

The pumpkin landed with a solid crunch and broke apart into hundreds of fine shards that shot out in all directions. Just like it was made of glass.

"Yes!" Tally broke into a huge grin. "It broke! I told you pumpkins break! I told you!"

Nearly everyone's jaw had dropped when they saw it. "How did you do that?" Housekeeper said.

"She did say something about a magician..." Pie replied.

"Magic. I don't think so. There's a trick to it." Foreman stepped closer and retrieved a piece. "It's frozen! He froze it solid!"

"Liquid nitrogen is actually a supercooled gas. It boils at negative 320 degrees Fahrenheit." Spencer said. "It instantly freezes anything it comes in contact with. Here, do another one." He handed Tally another pumpkin which she shattered with great glee.

"And you do this for Halloween every year?" Housekeeper said. "Where you two are from?"

"Yep. It's traditional." Spencer dunked another pumpkin in the tank.

"What's Halloween?" One of the kids asked.

"It's a holiday. Maybe we'll celebrate this year. Get some candy at least."

"What's candy?"

"Oh, we are so sending you candy." Rossi said.

Tally laughed and shattered another pumpkin.

* * *

The next day it was time for the Colony to leave for their new home.

But there was one problem. The new home was in Canada. For most of the colonists this wasn't a problem, they were technically or literally stateless, their paperwork erased or never created in the first place, and so were traveling under other legal permissions. But Tally's birth certificate had been found, she was a US citizen, born in California. But she didn't have her passport. There was one on the way, but even expedited it would take three weeks. For now she couldn't cross the border. "I'm going to miss you." Tally said, looking at her family with tears in her eyes.

"We're going to miss you too, kiddo." Housekeeper said, pulling her in for a hug. "It's not for long though. You'll be able to come see us before the snow gets high."

"And we'll see each other through the TV thing." Foreman reminded her. "It's not like we're being traded away. You better take care of her though." He said to Spencer.

"Of course I will." Spencer replied.

There were hugs all around, her students, her friends, and especially her family. The last and longest reserved for her parents, before they boarded the busses. And there was lots of waving as they pulled away.

When the last bus disappeared from sight Tally turned in Spencer's eyes and cried. "Don't let go." She said.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as his family pulled in around them. "I'll never let go."


	30. Chapter 30

**Part 5**

 **Chapter 30**

 **Candlewood Suites  
Watertown NY  
Outside Ft. Drum Military Reservation**

 **October 2011**

"What are your plans now, Dr. Reid?" Dave asked as they came back to the hotel.

"Um, back to DC. Do what I need to do to get cleared. Go back to work..." Spencer replied.

"You're going to take your new wife, who's never lived in the city, and leave her in your studio apartment which does not even have a bed..."

"That's not going to work, is it?" Spencer had not been thinking that far ahead. "I've been considering buying a condo. Maybe it's time to finally do that."

Dave nodded. "Trust me?"

"Of course."

"Good. I know the perfect place. I'll set it up."

"Uh, you don't even know my budget..."

"Oh ye of little faith."

Just then Hotch's phone rang. He put it on speaker. "Yes Garcia."

"Okay, Sir, something weird has happened. I mean not like weird like panic weird but still really weird..."

"Garcia..."

"Okay, we're finishing the DNA results for Parson Farm first because their records are already digitized so it's a lot easier and while we're doing that we ran the one for Seaver's baby because evidence and it came back a sibling match to someone from Parson Farm."

"So the same person who fathered her child also fathered another?"

"Yes, but this is the weird part. It matched up to number 2711 and this file is saying that she's married to Reid and isn't that kind of weird weird?"

But Hotch was thinking. "Run every sample you have from men old enough to have fathered Talitha Jensen."

"We'll make those a priority Sir."

"Thank you Garcia." Hotch rang off.

Morgan looked at Tally. "Sounds like you've got a little brother or sister on the way."

Tally shrugged. "If the child's mother wants us to be sibling I don't mind."

"No." Emily said. "That child is your sibling. We've already determined that."

"No, that's up to...you call her Ashley, yes? That's up to Ashley. She gets to make those choices about her family, even if Master arranges something different. And I plan to respect that as best I can."

"But..."

"I think this tradition is likely about giving as much power and dignity back to women as they can." Spencer said. "They can't choose the biological father of their child, but they can choose the rest of their family."

"Exactly," Tally agreed. "And I see no reason to change that, regardless of what any tests say."

"All right," Emily looked at Morgan and they pulled back. "Arranges something different?"

"Sometimes the Master takes children away when they're born and gives them to Elder families. We never know when or why."

"Thankfully we'll be sorting that out as best we can."

"Speaking of family," Morgan said, "You should call Will if you haven't, talk to Henry."

"Will." Spencer replied.

"What about him?"

"If you had questions about Henry and JJ and Will weren't around, who would you go to?"

"You and Garcia. His Godparents."

"Exactly," Spencer pulled out his phone.

"What can I do for my Junior G-man?" Garcia sang out.

"Garcia, I need to find a Professor Larry Fleinhardt, he's a theoretical physicist. He used to teach at CalTech, I don't know where he is anymore."

"This shouldn't be too hard...yep, he's teaching at MIT."

"That traitor," Spencer said with a lighthearted smile. "Thanks Garcia."

"Tally's godfather?" Hotch asked.

"He might be our best source out there."

"Let's go."

* * *

The hard part was leaving the bubble of safety that the team had built around them the past few days, so quietly and subtly Spencer hadn't even realized it was there.

The first sign was the news crews outside the gate. Tally already disliked car travel, but when they surged forward to see who was in such official looking vehicles she shrank against Spencer. "It's okay." He said. "They won't bother you."

"There's just so many of them." She said.

"We'll keep them away from you." He held her close and looked up at Morgan. "I assume we're all over the news?"

"The slaves of Grindstone Island," Morgan replied. "They've been interviewing everyone they can get their hands on. Thankfully no one who ever lived there has gone in for an interview."

"Thankfully." If the press learned about the Night Barns they would have a field day.

Their next challenge came on the plane itself. The pilot actually came forward to watch Tally strap in to the seatbelt. They had to tighten it all the way, and then her feet didn't touch the floor. "Nope," the pilot said before he went forward.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked.

"They weren't sure if she was within the minimum safe parameters for the restraint systems." Hotch said. "She is a little...small."

The pilot came back with a supplemental restraint system, a safety harness he set about installing for her.

"As I understand it, it's a side effect of how Midwife was keeping me from having children right off." Tally said. "I am honestly not complaining."

"Neither am I." Spencer agreed. The harness was a perfect fit for her. "I'm just surprised we have to use one here and not in the SUV's.

Hotch just sighed and pulled out his phone.

Morgan started laughing. "What?" Spencer asked.

"Regulations for government vehicles." Hotch said.

"Your girl needs a booster seat." Morgan added.

"I may be little." Tally said. "That doesn't mean I can't be fierce. Oh!" They started to taxi, and her eyes glued to the window and she held Spencer's hand tightly as they leapt into the sky.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

 **FBI offices  
1 Center Plaza  
Boston, MA**

 **October 2011**

Tally had clung close to Spencer on the ride from the airport. The area around Watertown had all been comfortingly rural, lots of fields and barns and some small warehouse-type businesses on the road to the airport. Boston was an entirely different experience.

They pulled in to the parking garage and took the elevator up to the offices, an experience that had her grabbing on for balance. While Hotch spoke with the Agent-in-charge Spencer intended to take Tally off to a quiet corner, maybe a conference room somewhere. But she had a mind of her own. She was still wrapped in his sweater, it very nearly trailed like a cape as she took a wandering path through the office to go look out the windows. "Boston." She said as he came up beside her. "I'm in Boston."

"You are."

"The Old North Church, the State House, the USS Constitution." He had expected her to be afraid. There was so much out there, so many large buildings, cars, people, colors and sounds and smells. It should be overwhelming. But he had forgotten how fierce she could be. She turned to him with eager eyes. "I want to see."

"Ummm..." But she already turned and was heading for the elevator lobby. "Wait, we need to stay right now."

"Why?"

"They said to stay put."

"Who is 'they'?"

"Ummm..."

"Because the last I heard we were free, which means we don't have to mindlessly obey anyone." She headed back to the elevator lobby.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked.

"I made a mistake."

"Oh?"

"I mistook Uncle Tom Syndrome for actual submissiveness. Tally, please? We need to meet some people who should be here soon. If need be we'll make a special trip back here if you want."

"Oh." She let the elevator go. "Thank you for asking. Yes, I would like that, I want to show the children what Boston looks like now." Instead of going downstairs she made her way back to the windows. "What is that, please?" She asked, pointing to some tents in the plaza down below.

"Ummm..." Spencer turned to one of the agents who worked there. "Green market?" They nodded. "It's a Farmer's Market or Green Market. Farmer's from around the area bring in their day's harvest to sell."

"Ooo." She looked closer. "Do they have those in the Capitol?"

"Yes, a number of them. I'll show you when we get there." Well, she had grown up on a farm

"Good." She remained staring out the window.

Spencer watched her for a long moment. "You're not interested in going someplace quieter?"

"No. There's far too much to see."

* * *

In the meantime Hotch and Rossi headed for one of the interrogation/meeting rooms. Waiting for them was a smaller man with close cropped curls and what might be nervous energy. "Dr. Fleinhart?" Hotch asked.

"Yes." Dr. Fleinhart replied. "I'm surprised; I haven't consulted for the FBI since I left California. What can I do for you today?"

"We want to talk to you about the Talitha Jensen case."

The smaller man's eagerness quietly ebbed, leaving him saddened and drooped. "Oh. Oh, Tally. Have you found her?" He didn't have the hope one would have if they were asking after a missing person. No, he was asking if they had found her body.

Hotch preferred not playing his cards too soon. "We need to know about her parents."

"I knew Monica and Berjur well. We were colleagues for a number of years, close friends for most of them. I was honored that they asked me to be Tally's godfather. It's terrible what happened, the whole family."

"I know this is difficult, but is there any chance they used a sperm donor."

For a moment Dr. Fleinhart looked confused, but then anger overcame him. "Is that what this is about? Is that who did this?"

"Who?"

Dr. Fleinhart thought about it a long moment, then sighed and seemed to give in. "I don't suppose it matters anymore, all of the principals have gone to the next plane of existence after all. Monica and Berjur adopted Tally."

"There's no record of that." Dave said.

"It wasn't exactly legal." Dr. Fleinhart replied. "Actually it wasn't at all legal. Dr. Aofie Murphy was her mother. Don't worry about looking for her; she died after returning to Dublin a number of years ago. She was a grad student at the time Tally was born."

"Why illegal?" Hotch asked.

"Because of the father; Aofie became pregnant when she was at this conference for financial mathematics, she claimed she was drinking at the reception and woke up in this man's bed; she had no recollection of what happened. We assumed he slipped her something, but there was no proof. It was her word against his and he was...very powerful. A major donor. You know..."

"That would be a difficult situation."

"Yes. Well, she found out she was pregnant and she was terrified that if he found out he would insist on an abortion, which went against her belief system. But she also knew she didn't have the wherewithal to raise a child. And Monica and Berjur had been unsuccessful and were looking at adopting, so it seemed the perfect solution. Aofie waited until she was far enough along to make an abortion impractical and then went to the father and said that she had a solution, she didn't need money, she didn't need time, she just needed his signature and she'd be out of his hair. None of us expected that he would sue for custody."

"Custody?" Dave asked.

"Exactly. You would think that admitting to paternity would be admitting to rape but he said he would say that she had a drinking problem and was unfit to parent and so...well, the more we looked into him the less any of us were willing to have him raise a child. His belief system was archaic, his politics cruel, his reputation...but he could afford better lawyers than the entire mathematics faculty could even if we pooled our funds."

"So everyone knew what was going on?" Hotch asked.

"It was an open sort of secret. We have a lot of those, you do enough government work and people just know. Monica and Aofie found a midwife willing to help, she made note of Aofie having a miscarriage to throw this man off, and then when Tally was delivered she filled out the birth certificate listing Monica as Tally's birth mother. I mean technically illegal but they were all working in everyone's best interest. And all of the principals were happy with it, Monica and Berjur adored Tally, they gave her everything she needed and Aofie finished her dissertation and went home to teach, content in the knowledge that her daughter was safe and loved."

"It sounds the perfect set up." Dave said.

"It was, until Tally was taken." Dr. Fleinhart said with a sigh.

"Would you be willing to testify to all of this in court?" Hotch asked.

Dr. Fleinhart considered and nodded. "I suppose so. I don't know why I would have to, everyone is dead. Surely the statute of limitations has expired."

"Do you remember who Dr. Murphy accused at the time?" Hotch asked.

"Donald Parsons. Head of Liberty Investments I believe. Why does all of this matter?"

"Because we found Talitha," Hotch said.

Dr. Fleinhart sighed. "Monica was estranged from her family, but Bejur was close to his. They were buried on the Faroe Islands, near his home. I'd like to bring Tally there."

"I'm sure she'd like to go." Dave said, as he nodded to the glass behind Dr. Fleinhart.

Dr. Fleinhart turned and his jaw dropped. He slowly rose from his chair and went into the main room. "Spencer?" He asked. "Is this?"

Spencer's smile brightened. "Larry! I haven't seen you in too long. Yeah I, um, I guess I found her."

Dr. Fleinhart turned to the small woman standing beside him, "Talitha?" He asked in wonder.

Tally cocked her head and looked at him. "I think I remember you." She said. "I remember you used to take us for ice cream in your very special car. We enjoyed that very much."

"We did." Dr. Fleinhart said. He looked up at the others. "A 1931 Ford Model A. I can't believe you're alive. What...what happened?" He asked Spencer.

"Have you been watching the news lately? That island up north..."

"The slave farms? Oh dear..."

"No, we're all right."

"Are you sure? _"_

"Reasonably."

"Oh." He looked back to Tally. "I don't suppose, I'm sure it's impertinent, but, may I hug you?"

"Of course." Tally said. And with that their family grew by one.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 31**

 **FBI offices  
1 Center Plaza  
Boston, MA**

 **October 2011**

"Married!" Larry said with wonder.

The three of them were having a bit of a reunion in the building courtyard, walking among the plantings and fountains. "I know it seems sudden, but we've been back together for almost a year now. It's right for us." Spencer smiled a little. "I guess maybe we were always going that way, we were just too young to see it back then."

"You were." The older man replied. "I guess they never said when you were in hearing range, Monica and Bejur used to refer to you as their future son-in-law. Yes, they did. They always said they were never afraid for Tally when she was off with you, no matter where you two went, said you were vastly more indulgent than a big brother would be, and she was vastly more attentive than any little sister. Bejur was a devout man, he said that God put you two in the right place, His timing was just a little off."

That brought gentle chuckles all around. "They sound like very nice people." Tally said. "I wish I could have met them."

"I wish you could have as well." Larry replied. "Have you been alone all this time?"

"No. I believe the correct terminology is that I was adopted into a family there. They're very nice people as well. Someday, perhaps, I'll be able to introduce you to them."

"I would like that very much."

* * *

"So Parsons finds out that he has a daughter." Morgan said as they watched the trio from the office high above. "We know he hasn't had any children. He must have figured that this was his golden opportunity. So he arranges her kidnapping. But then why put her in with the slaves?"

"He must have decided she wouldn't be a suitable heir." Emily replied.

"Because she was already gone to sin," Dave said. "My magician will save me."

"A firm belief in magic could be read as a sinful nature." Hotch agreed.

"But he made special provision for her anyway." Dave said. "A better education, a cleaner, easier job, and Reid was an answer to a prayer." He looked out the window at them again. "I think I know how to catch this guy."

* * *

 **The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia  
Garbose Family Special Delivery Unit  
Philadelphia, PA**

They had moved Ashley to the best hospital in the region for very premature babies, just in case. Now JJ moved to her bedside. "How are you feeling?" She asked.

Ashley was lying in bed full time, and on a host of medications to try to keep her from going in to labor. The side effects were miserable, but every day meant her baby had a better chance. Thankfully her membranes hadn't ruptured. If she could keep the baby in another two weeks it's chances would be excellent. If she could make another five she'd be home free, but the chances of that were slim. "I'm hanging in there." She said.

"Can you answer a few hard questions?"

"I can try."

"We know about the Night Barns, the breeding program. Were you also assaulted by any of the owners?"

Ashley sighed and nodded. "I got to be a party favor one night. Well, more than one night."

"Were you already pregnant?"

"Maybe. They thought so. I was late."

"By how many months?"

"Two weeks."

"Do you get irregular when you're under stress?"

"Yeah. And I had been on the pill before. Is this baby one of theirs?"

"We think so, yeah."

Ashley nodded. "Good. I couldn't blame one of the other slaves, but I want to nail whoever did this to me, right to the fucking wall."

JJ chuckled. "I'm with you there. Okay, I need to go call Dave."

But Ashley reached out and caught her before she left. "Can I ask you something?"

* * *

 **Boston Public Market  
136 Blackstone Street Plaza  
Boston, MA**

All the way to Boston, all the sights to be seen, and this was what Tally wanted to do first. They walked two blocks over and put Morgan on camera duty. "Okay." He said, lifting the device they were using. "Go."

"Hey everyone." Tally said, waving at the camera. "So Spencer and I are in Boston for the day. Boston, home of the Boston Tea Party and the First Continental Congress, a central location for the Revolutionary War and home to at least a dozen monuments that we would love to show you. Also home to my Godfather Larry, whom I just met again today and who will be joining us. But we're supposed to be showing you important parts of the outside world, and as fascinating as history is to a teacher, it's not that immediately useful. But I think I found something that is."

"She's a natural at this." Larry said to Spencer.

"Remember when The Masters would bring that horrid stuff in packages that they claimed was food to Sunday services and pass it around? It tasted awful and made you feel a little sick after you ate it, and they said that's what people who weren't being cared for with Christian Charity would have to eat? Well, they were lying. There're all kinds of stuff to eat out here and very little of it bears any resemblance to what they brought that day."

"What did they bring?" Morgan asked.

"MRE's," Spencer replied, "Possibly expired ones."

"Gack."

"This is what they call a Farmer's Market." Tally moved so the tents were behind her. "It can also be called a Public Market or a Greenmarket. This is where farmer's come into the city with their harvest fresh off the farm to sell. And it looks exactly like what we eat at home. We are going to show you what we can find. Come on." And with that she led Spencer and Larry boldly into the Market.

* * *

 **Grindstone Colony  
Wolfe Island  
Ontario, Canada**

Later that night, after supper, the combined colony gathered in the dining hall to watch the short video. "You know." Housekeeper said. "I wondered about that."

"You ate real food before." Foreman said.

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago. Things might have changed." She watched a few minutes more, "Looks like they didn't though."

"I could cook anything you want with what they have there." Cook said, "Anything at all just about."

"I wonder if we could sell our excess in a place like that." Smitty said.

"Now that's something to start thinking about." Foreman said. He nodded as he watched the video. "Good job Teacher."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

 **BAU Headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA**

 **October 2011**

Eventually they'd had to take their leave of Larry and return home. "Is this where you live?" Tally asked as she looked up at the towering building.

"No, this is where we work." Spencer considered the building as well. "I supposed you could call this our schoolhouse. It's where we feel very safe and we can do our best work."

"Ah." That understanding reached she followed them in to the building and quietly submitted to security. "I cannot get used to these moving rooms." She said of the elevator. "You said they are lifted by cables and pulleys?"

"Yes. They are counterweighted. They're actually less common back home, the risk of earthquake there is greater and there is more room for the city to spread out so there are fewer tall buildings."

"What if the cable breaks?"

Spencer looked down into her concerned face with a tight smile. "Let's not consider that."

"Right."

Morgan's stomach hurt from holding in laughter.

They stepped out of the elevator and straight into a brightly colored tornado. "Spencer! You're here! You're home! You're okay!" Garcia said, hugging him long and hard.

"I'm okay. Reasonably okay," Spencer replied.

"No you're not, you're too skinny!" She stepped back and looked at him. "But we can fix it! I'm going to make you soup! And you too. Are you Tally?"

"I am." Tally replied, a soft smile on her face. "You must be Penelope. Spencer told me quite a lot about you."

"I am. Can I hug you?"

"Of course."

"You have two choices, at the moment." Dave said, walking up to them, "A hotel room in the city...do not argue..." He put up a hand to stop Spencer from even opening his mouth. "Or I know a little inn outside Spotsylvania, a small town, close to the city but in the countryside. Which one?"

Spencer looked down at Tally, who considered. "Boston was fascinating. I would like to spend more time in the city, especially in the Capitol. But I think I need to get back between the shafts first."

Dave turned, but then turned back, "I should have considered this."

"What?" Spencer asked.

"The inn is built around an old plantation house. A lot of the rooms are small outbuildings."

Spencer winced but Tally smiled. "That sounds quite familiar. But we'll be safe there, yes? Our own space and the freedom to come and go?"

"Of course. I'm sure Morgan will go with you and you'll have a car."

"Then I think I rather like the idea. We discussed it," she turned to Spencer. "When you tried to come back for me, basing in the familiar as everyone went out to explore something new so it wouldn't be such a shock. It would probably be for the best if we did the same."

"Good point." Spencer replied.

"I'll go set it up. You're going with them." Dave said to Morgan.

"Guess I'm going to the country." Morgan replied with a sigh.

* * *

 **The Tobacco Barn  
Stevenson Ridge Plantation  
Spotsylvania, Virginia**

At first Spencer was doubtful, but the renovated barn was really a small cabin, quiet and cozy, with just enough kitchen to manage breakfast for two or three. The look of the place was very much like the housing back on the island, but there was a bed for two, internet service, an SUV outside, and Morgan was in the cabin next door. It was the perfect bridge space between there and the city. "Oh, this is lovely!" Tally said when she saw it.

"Just need to make it into a schoolhouse." Morgan said, as he put the old globe he had found on the coffee table.

"Seriously?" Spencer asked.

"Whatever it takes to make you two feel safe enough to get a good night's sleep."

They managed to get a good night's sleep that night. But it had little to do with the décor, as comforting as it was. The bed was big enough, and soft enough, to sink and they had a fire against the sudden fall chill. Tally rolled into his arms like she belonged there, and moaned like she'd never known pain. It was sweet and good and in the end he found himself drifting with her in his arms. "Future son-in-law?" She asked.

"Maybe your father was right. Maybe this was meant to be."

* * *

For the next several days they got 'back between the shafts', an island term for being back to a familiar line of work. Spencer was debriefed over a few days, filled out the mountain of paperwork, and started seeing a Bureau psychologist. Tally was not yet ready to see a therapist, and Spencer wasn't certain what specialty she would need. Instead she started keeping a journal, and kept her hands busy.

They were duly trundled off to the doctor for a full medical check. Spencer was deemed to be healthy if underweight and dealing with arthritis in his knee, was ordered to eat more and sent to physical therapy. Nothing he couldn't handle. Tally was deemed to be more seriously malnourished, was given supplements, a special diet, and was told to come back regularly to check her progress. "I always thought I was doing well." She said. "I never felt hungry."

"The midwife knew what she was doing." Spencer replied. "She kept you just hungry enough to stop a baby, no more."

"Ahhh. Best to set that to rights then."

The Inn was run by old friends of Dave's, to no one's surprise. They let her sit in on cooking classes they offered, letting her absorb modern cooking techniques and terminology as she watched. And she started a quilt, of all things, for their bed, and a new sweater to replace the one she had to give back, and at one point she commandeered a place behind the landscapers shed and a propane stove and set up dying buckets. "Much better," she said as she pulled an older boy's undershirt from a bucket full of hot water, alum and some kind of mushroom she found growing under the foundation of the horse barn.

"That's a nice purple." Spencer said.

"I always did like this one. Those boughten shirts are both ugly and uncomfortable. There's something not right about clothing for women being so unpleasant compared to clothing meant for men."

"I agree." He looked at the long denim skirt she was wearing. "You look more comfortable in a skirt."

"I am."

The next day the Innkeeper noticed the soft colors and asked her about it. "We regularly do crafter's retreats, where women come for a few days to learn to do different handicrafts." The Innkeeper said. Can you teach a natural dying class?"

"Surely." Tally replied. "Shirts, cloth for sewing, spun wool or batts?"

By the end of the week she had a glimmer of a future career going.

Eventually they started visiting the city. Tally made him bring the camera so she could send videos back to the Island. Never what you would expect, public toilets were a thing, and banking, and taking the Metro and a dozen other topics of interest. They managed to set up e-mail out there and she found herself answering a dozen questions a week. "Sounds like they're keeping you busy." Penelope said one afternoon as she put bowls of a rich chicken soup on her table.

"They are." Tally replied. "But it's good. I like feeling like I still have a place there."

"It really matters to you."

"It does. It's...I guess now I have two homes." She said. Then she looked over at Spencer. "No, I have three."

"They wanted the results." She said one night as they sat around a fire pit on the inn grounds, enjoying the Indian summer evening, "The Master's wives and the Elder's wives. But the Elder's had too many children to have time to knit and sew and the Mistresses didn't have the patience. So they made us make things for them, everything from cloth diapers to fine lace wedding veils. It all had to be handmade, even though they didn't have the time or patience to learn to make anything. The output they wanted took an awful lot of hands, that's why I had to teach every girl."

"Now you can teach people who want to learn for themselves, for the pleasure of making things."

"I rather like that." She replied. "You know, I did overhear some of them talking about a woman they knew, a relative perhaps, who was not 'working'. The Masters used to preach that all women had to work outside of the home out here, and homes were barren cold places where people merely slept and did not live as a true family or community. They made it sound awful, but then they have lied before..."

"And they were lying again, or at least exaggerating. The question of who works and who looks after a home is answered by each individual family. The majority of women do work, as do the majority of men, but some of both sexes stay home, or stay home for a time and then return to work. As an example, my boss Hotch's wife stayed home full time to keep their home and raise their son. My co-worker JJ's husband stayed home to care for their home and raise their son until Henry was old enough to go to school full time, then he went back to work as well. It's really up to each individual family. I'm still working out why they told that lie."

"And what about us?"

Ahh, that was the meat of the question. "As far as I'm concerned just having you in my life is contribution enough. Should you choose to work and contribute financially I'll support your decision, but I make enough so that you shouldn't have to. If you want to teach crafting or go back to university or if we start a family, I'll support any decision you make."

"You will?"

"Yes. You're my wife." It wasn't legal yet, not by any of the world's standards, but as far as he was concerned...

"And you're my husband." Tally replied. "There and here."

"There and here."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

 **BAU Headquarters  
FBI building  
Quantico, VA**

 **October 2011**

"So Ashley is going to raise the baby?" Emily asked around the break table. "That's going to be tough."

"Actually, she's not." JJ said. She'd come home for a few days, Dave had gone out to spell her. "It's um..."

"What's wrong?" Penelope asked, turning to face her friend.

"Nothing. It's just that...while I was reassigned I...um...I had a miscarriage."

"Oh JJ!"

"No, I'm all right. But they don't know if I can...um...I mean Will and I have been trying, but..."

"Is there anything they can do?" Emily asked.

"Maybe, but...Ashley said she wanted to put her baby up for adoption. She said she didn't think she was ready to be a mother, and with this behind her she really wants to see if she can get into Human Trafficking, and, you know Will and I talked about it, and..."

Penelope gasped. "Oh my god! You're adopting Ashley's baby!"

JJ blushed and grinned and nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

 **FBI Building  
Federal Plaza  
New York, NY**

It took time but the eventually sorted out what it would take to interview one Donald Parsons. They finally worked out an arrangement with his legal team that allowed him to travel to New York and back to Grindstone Island without fear of arrest. "We're trying to sort out the Talitha Jenkins kidnapping." Hotch said. "As part of it we need to do a DNA test."

"Of course," Parsons said with a smile.

"You don't object to giving us a DNA sample?" Hotch asked again.

"No, not at all. What do we have to do?" Parsons obligingly opened his mouth for the swab. "I can already tell you what your results will be."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'm Talitha's biological father."

"So you admit to raping Dr. Aoife Murphy?"

"No. She had been drinking, and came on to me. Later she came to me and tried to blackmail me with the pregnancy. I told her I would fight for custody, and she gave Talitha away in an illegal adoption, depriving me of my rights as a father."

"We are well past the statute of limitations for a custodial kidnapping." One of Parsons' lawyers pointed out.

"Why did you keep your daughter with your slaves?" Dave asked.

"Contract workers," Parsons corrected. "She loved teaching the children; I couldn't stop her if I tried."

"Why did you force her to mate with Dr. Reid?"

"I introduced them. What happened after that was their affair. Whatever stories they're telling are lies. How long will it take that test to come back?"

"About a week," Dave replied. "You'll have to return here for the results."

Parsons smiled, "Of course."

* * *

A week later Parsons returned. He seemed ebullient, happy to be back, almost excited to hear the official results. "Well?" He asked when Hotch and Dave joined him.

"You were correct." Hotch said. "You are Talitha Jenkins' biological father."

"Excellent." Parsons grinned.

But that grin was wiped off his face a moment later. "Donald Parsons, you're under arrest for the assault, rape and illegal imprisonment of SSA Ashley Seaver." Dave said. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Parsons sat there in shock as Dave recited the Miranda warning and put him in cuffs. "Wh...what are you talking about?"

"She wasn't pregnant when Wilcox invited her to the party." Dave told him. "Congratulations, you're going to be a father again."

"You said that you were going to match my client's DNA to Talitha Jenkins." One of the lawyers protested.

"Agent Seaver already consented to a Chorionic Villus Sampling test in order to identify her rapist. Her baby's DNA was already in the system. Once a DNA result is in the system the computer automatically matches it to any unknowns. " Dave looked at Parsons with disgust. "Given that you're a flight risk with an established home in a non-extradition disputed territory I think you're going to be a guest on a different island for a while. Riker's Island."

Parsons looked shocked as he was led away.

* * *

Dave wasn't done yet.

"You arrested my husband?" Mary Parsons asked. "Why?"

"He raped an FBI agent." Dave replied. "We were able to prove it by matching his DNA to the baby she's carrying. Yes, he got her pregnant." He nodded. "You don't have any children, do you?"

Mary Parsons' face had gone from shock to one of deep thought. "No, we were never blessed with children."

"A sign of disfavor from God, if I'm not mistaken. Usually as the result of some great sin committed by one partner in the marriage. He's done it before you know, your schoolteacher? The little one? She's also his, he raped a woman at a conference twenty some odd years ago."

Now her eyes went flat with growing anger. "He said he was going to breed her to that Doctor he found. Said the Lord told him her offspring would be the perfect ones to adopt as our own."

"They would. Your religion forbids adoption, doesn't it? Because the sins of the father are passed down for seven generations. Of course since he fathered her that eliminates any generational sin from the adoption, no? Even though she was born of sin. You know, likely those aren't the only two times he's done that." He settled back and considered. "Serial rape is a form of adultery, isn't it? All that sleeping around, giving in to temptation..."

By now Mary Parsons' eyes had narrowed. She turned to her lawyer. "Make me a deal." She said. "And you can handle the divorce as well."

The lawyer nodded and turned to Dave and Hotch. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

"Every wife?" Andi asked a couple of days later.

"Yep," Dave nodded. "Once they heard Ashley's statement and went home to compare notes they realized that their husbands had been using the housemaids as their own, private collection of sex workers. Adultery is the one grounds for divorce in their belief system. And they were all ashamed and angry enough to go for it. In exchange for not being charged with accessory they gave up everything, records of kidnapping, financial data, even some details on the missing survey reports. By the end of next week we should know which country has jurisdiction and we will go in and free everyone, this time for good."

"You used their own beliefs against them." Andi nodded. "That is some masterful profiling."

"That's three divorces." Dave replied.

* * *

 **Central Booking  
The Tombs  
New York, NY**

"I want to meet him." Tally said. "I want to speak to him, just once."

Spencer had tried to talk her out of it, to discern the reason behind her demand, but she was resolute. She insisted on speaking with him. And for some reason Hotch and Dave allowed it. So they caught a shuttle flight up to DC.

Thirty hours in a cell with nineteen of the denizens of New York City, all sharing one open toilet, had already begun the work of shattering Don Parsons self esteem. His expensive suit was rumpled, his tie had been taken along with his belt, and he was starting to smell a bit. But he still had the proud bearing of a patriarch as he sat at the table and allowed the guard to handcuff his wrists to the bolt in the floor.

Tally did not shirk from her former captor. "They say you are my father." She said.

"I am your father, darling..."

"No." She snapped. "Foreman is my father, for he is the one who took vows with Housekeeper, my mother. She gave me to him the day she took me into her family. You are my _sire_." She refused to look away from his eyes. "Isn't that the term you taught us to use."

"Talitha..."

" _Teacher_." She snapped again. "You do _not_ have the right to my name." She looked at him a long moment. "I was right, you know. I told you my magician would come for me."

"No..."

"He did. You let him through the front door. And I am right about this as well, I know what you want."

"You don't..."

"I do. I came here to tell you that I'm not your slave any longer. My body is no longer yours to control."

"Wait..."

"And even if it means I will never lay with my husband again I will _never_ give you grandchildren. And I will teach my little brother or sister to do the same." She was terrible and enormous and entirely fierce. "Your precious bloodline ends with me." With that she got up and walked out the door.

Spencer turned once, and watched Don Parsons, supposed Master, lower his head to his hands, a broken man.

* * *

 **Riker's Island Prison  
New York, NY**

The day after Tally met with her biological father for the last time Dave Rossi waited in an interrogation room at the prison, while his old buddy from Vietnam, now the warden, made sure no one saw any video tapes. He waited while they led the leader from the biggest gang in the prison in and signaled the guards to remove his cuffs and step out. He tossed a business card on the table. "That's not a get-out-of-jail free card." He said. "But it's good for a favor or two."

The man looked at him, studied him. "What do I have to do to earn this favor?"

"You pay attention to the news in here?"

"Sometimes."

"That slavery case up north?"

"That one. Yeah. Bunch of rich white men taking it out on the colored folk again. You think they would have learned the first time."

Dave opened the file he was carrying, showed him the picture. "He's one of them. He's being put in gen pop today."

The man looked at the picture, then at the card on the table, then at Dave, then picked up the card. "Always willing to protect and serve."


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

 **901 D St  
Washington DC**

 **November 2011**

In the end they spent nearly a month at the inn in Spotsylvania. They spent the time getting healthy in every way. But in some ways they would never heal. Especially Tally, for all that she grew more comfortable with the modern world some part of her would always be stuck one hundred and fifty years ago. She would adapt but she might never fully heal.

Spencer found he could live with that.

Right about the time she agreed with Spencer about having to go back out to the country every night being a pain Dave said his friend had moved out of his condo and the minor renovations were done. Spencer took a deep breath and a big leap of faith and signed the paperwork. The new place was seven blocks from Union Station, further than his old place but still a walkable distance, even with a light dusting of snow on the ground. "So have you heard from the people up north?" Dave asked as they walked.

"We have." Spencer said. "The colony on Wolfe Island has decided to stay there. They've already made arrangements to have a couple of booths at the Farmer's Market in Kingston, Ontario, they've contracted with six restaurants there to provide custom grown heritage meat and organic produce, and they're starting a CSA program. If Housekeeper's projections stay on track they'll be a self sustaining organic farm cooperative within five years."

"They'll stay on track." Tally said. "Even Mother Nature wouldn't dare cross one of Housekeeper's plans." That got a laugh. "What about the others, have you heard?"

"They're hanging in there. I don't think they have a five year plan but with the information the wives' gave us they have enough funds to keep them going while they sort it out." Dave replied. "I don't know if I'm glad Grindstone Island turned out to be US territory or not, it sounds like the other side of the border is more organized."

"I'm sure it will work out for them." Morgan replied. "They're free now, that's the important thing."

Finally they stopped in front of a large, brick building. Spencer and Tally stared at the inscription over the door. "Edmonds School?" Spencer finally asked.

"Opened in 1903, closed in the 70's, when the district decided it was cheaper and safer to open new schools to fit the new building codes than to try to renovate the old ones." Dave replied. "A lot of the old buildings have been converted to condos now."

"You said you wanted to live in a school house." Morgan added.

Tally and Spencer grinned at each other and followed the two men in, practically skipping up the steps. They went up to the second floor unit and marveled at the space. "You're kidding!" Spencer said as he stuck his head in the small office just inside the door. It had all the accoutrements of his classroom, right down to the glassed in bookcase and the teacher's desk.

"You said school!" Morgan insisted.

"Check the living room." Dave said. "There are two bedrooms upstairs. Nothing fancy there, but enough for a family, now that you don't have to worry about Parsons anymore."

They passed through the large kitchen, a space filled with light from the tall windows and done in a way that made it feel like an old-fashioned high school chemistry lab, and then around the corner to the living room. Tally gasped when she saw it. "It looks like my classroom!"

"With a couch." Spencer laughed. It did, from the bins around the walls under the tall bookshelves that held his library, to the spinning wheel off to one side, to the braided rug on the floor. The stove in the corner was electric and there was indeed a couch, but otherwise it was perfect. He turned to the others with a huge smile. "Thank you." He said.

"You're welcome." Dave said.

"This place has great security and a 24 hour doorman." Morgan said. "She'll be safe here when you go out on the road. Any idea when you're coming back?"

"At this point after the first of the year; I haven't quite been cleared yet, and we want to go see Mom and visit CalTech before I come back."

"Going to go see home, huh?"

"No." Tally said, coming up and putting her arm around Spencer's waist. "My magician already brought me home."


End file.
